Tag: seattle

Black Ends Bring Ground-Breaking “Gunk Pop” to Substation This Saturday

Gunk pop. That’s the phrase Nicolle Swims—lead singer, guitarist and songwriter for Seattle band Black Ends—coined to describe the group’s distinctive ruckus, which builds on Seattle’s alternative rock history but signifies a new and more diverse era for Seattle rock music. “I feel like my voice is kind of gunky,” Swims explains. “My guitar pedals can be pretty gross and weird sounding too.”

Comprised of Swims, as well as bassist and keys player Ben Swanson and drummer Jonny Modes, Black Ends released their most recent EP, Stay Evil, last summer. Swims says the band is currently working on a new music for an LP they hope to release and tour with soon.

The resemblance between gunk pop and grunge can’t be denied, and sure enough, Black Ends—who play one of their first shows back since quarantine at Fremont’s Substation this Saturday—spring from the same twisted sense of humor that fueled the genius of Kurt Cobain and several decades of white-dude Nirvana copycats. While Swims cites Nirvana as her favorite band of all time, there’s nothing cliché about Black Ends. Swims expands the definition of the Seattle sound simply by being herself.

Swims grew up in Federal Way, a city of about 100,000 people located just south of Seattle. She played saxophone in high school band, which she admits she “sucked at,” because she really wanted to play guitar. “I’ve always loved that instrument and grew up loving it,” she recalls. “My mom bought me a guitar and I started taking guitar lessons and I loved it so much.”

Graduating from high school in the nearby town of Burien, Swims went on to pursue a music degree at The University of Idaho, while her family relocated to Alabama. “I didn’t like that college; I wanted to move back with my parents for a little bit, so I went to school in Alabama and just played at open mics there for like six years,” says Swims. But she desperately wanted to return to Seattle, saying, “I missed it a lot.”

In 2018, after studying classical guitar at the University of Alabama-Huntsville, Swims moved back to Seattle with the intent of starting her band. She already had some original music written, and had also conceived a name for the project.

“I had a book on the end of my bookshelf called Black and I was like, that’s a cool band name: Black Ends,” she says. “It was super simple. Everyone thinks it’s about death or something. It was just a book on the end of my shelf – a really cool book by Deborah Willis, a celebration of Black culture.”

That simple inspiration is partly what makes Black Ends’ music so fresh and important—it challenges Seattle’s predominantly white alternative rock idiom by situating Swims, a BIPOC woman, front and center. The rise of Black Ends represents a growing community of POC-led rock bands in Seattle.

“Before the pandemic, I used to get together with Alaia from Tres Leches, Eva from the Black Tones, Shaina Shepherd, and SassyBlack,” says Swims. “[Seeing more BIPOC-led bands in Seattle] makes me feel very good, like we’re doing something right. And I’ve seen, online, more Black girls are playing rock music than ever, and it’s really awesome.”

The growing prevalence of Black womxn artists in Seattle rock is largely due to the on-the-ground work of bands like SassyBlack and The Black Tones, who repeatedly highlight Blackness and the Black roots of rock music in their work—a torch that Swims also carries, while noting there’s a lot more work the community could do, too.

“I feel like there should be more Black bands getting booked in general,” she says. “I feel like there shouldn’t be all-white boy bands anymore, like the shows that are all white boy bands. That’s just over.”

It is over, and Swims’ quirky sense of songwriting, raspy voice, and Nina Simone-meets-Kurt Cobain vibe, which makes for some of the most innovative music Seattle’s seen in years, is a breath of fresh air.

“I mean, I have a lot of influences, ” Swims points out. “James Baldwin, I love his writing a lot. Nina Simone, I really love her. Jeff Buckley, he’s one of my favorite singers ever. I really like Elliot Smith a lot too.”

Despite the global pandemic, Black Ends have only gained momentum and notoriety throughout Seattle, to the point that they’re now playing fancy parties with bands like Childbirth, a Seattle supergroup made up of Julia Shapiro of Chastity Belt, Bree McKenna of Tacocat, and Stacy Peck of Pony Time, as well as one of Seattle’s up-and-coming festivals, Fisherman’s Village Music Festival, where they’ll play September 11th at midnight. This Saturday, they play alongside Actionesse, a 5-piece horncore band that’s earned nods from The Seattle Times and NPR’s All Songs Considered.

“More people started asking us to play as the days went by – I guess, word of mouth, people heard about Black Ends, and realized we weren’t bad, so they started asking us to play shows in Seattle. We never really had to ask people to give us shows,” says Swims. “I’m having a great time.”

Follow Black Ends on Instagram and Facebook for ongoing updates.

Seattle Hosts Its First-Ever International Reggae Festival

Seattle-based reggae artists Black Puma and Clinton Fearon. Photo courtesy of Black Puma.

This Saturday, August 14th, The Canal in Ballard hosts the First Annual Seattle International Reggae Festival. Founder and promoter Jeremiah Blake, known in the music world as Andrew Hype, promises a fun, family-friendly experience of reggae music, art and culture and, if all goes well, hopes to make it an annual tradition. “It’s like the new birth of a new baby. We going to watch it grow, you know?” says Blake. “Just expect great food, great music, great artwork.”

Hosting this festival shows just how far Seattle’s reggae scene has come. When Blake first moved to Seattle in 2001, there were hardly any Jamaicans in the area, except for a few pioneering Pacific northwest reggae artists like Clinton Fearon, who helped establish a local scene. But in the last twenty years, the number of Jamaican immigrants in Seattle has grown steadily, and as a result, Afro-Caribbean musical styles like reggae have become more prevalent.

“Everyday I see more Jamaicans coming to Seattle. Seattle’s a good place to live so you find more people gravitating to Seattle,” says Blake. “I got here in 2001 [when] the reggae scene was a bit shaky, like, you could find one reggae spot. It’s grown massive, huge, since then. You can find reggae actually every day of the week now at places like Red Lounge and Havana.”

Still, Blake had never planned to do a festival until the pandemic hit, forcing everyone to quarantine. Blake says the inability to get together and perform took its toll on the community reggae musicians and promoters had been building, so when restrictions on gathering loosened, he was inspired to put on a new festival and offer artists a fresh way to be together.

“The artists, they are having cabin fever right now, they’re trying to do their thing,” says Blake. “And we promoters are so in the same mode. We’re longing to see artists on stage and getting back to normal. As we get opportunity now for events and stuff like that we going to take this first opportunity to bring forward a reggae event.”

This isn’t just any reggae event, either—it’s truly international, and Blake says there will be opportunities for festival-goers to meet and greet with certain artists. For instance, international reggae star AJ Brown, of the legacy Kingston-based reggae band Third World, will be performing, as well as New York-based reggae artist Taj Weekes, Portland’s Jubba White from Dubtonic Kru, and Trinidad’s Dakeye are all slated to perform.

Additionally, the festival will feature a solo performance from Seattle-based reggae artist Nkrumah Miller, also known as Black Puma, and a member of local reggae band Irie Lights. Similar to Blake, Miller moved to Seattle in 2001 and, with his soulful blend of hip hop, fusion, reggae, dancehall and Reggaetón, has found a sizable following here in Seattle.

“The reggae scene at this point in time is alive. There’s a lot of bands out there and a lot of people loving it, especially the roots and reggae music, it’s booming,” says Miller. “And it’s not only happening here, but across the state.”

Music starts Saturday night at 9 pm, but starting at 12 pm that day, AJ Brown, who is also an accomplished visual artist, will be leading art classes for all ages called “Paint n’ Sip.” Ticket pricing for the festival is offered at different levels depending on whether you attend both the painting class and the show, or just one part of the festival. Additionally, there will be Jamaican food and vendors for attendees to enjoy.

“I am also a chef. We do catering and pop-up Jamaican cuisine,” says Blake. “Most of the [reggae] events and shows in Seattle you can find my food there.”

Regardless of how much of the day you decide to spend at the festival, Blake and Miller promise there will be plenty of “positive vibes” to go around.

“I’m excited to see the people, the interaction of the people, the kids, the families, and the good vibes after this Corona virus and quarantine keeping us from enjoying the natural music of life,” says Miller. “Now we have an opportunity at this event that’s bringing us together. It’s a blessing, mon, and I’m looking forward to performing.”

Follow Andrew Hype on Facebook for ongoing updates about the First Annual Seattle International Reggae Festival and other events.

Seattle’s Prom Queen Rally to #FreeBritney with Spears Covers EP Lucky

Photo Credit: Ernie Sapiro

Lately, pop star Britney Spears has been back in the news as she fights to end her court-ordered conservatorship, prompted by a fame-induced mental breakdown in 2008. Thirteen years later, Spears is fighting to regain her autonomy from her conservator father, who limits her access to her estate and allegedly restricts her reproductive rights.

The battle for Spears’ freedom has sparked widespread discussions about disability rights and the public voyeurism that contributed to Spears’ tragic predicament. As society’s scrutiny of Spears’ personal life escalates once again, Seattle and L.A.-based artist Celene “Leeni” Ramadan, also known as Prom Queen, has decided to put emphasis on a part of Britney that she feels is often overlooked—Spears’ talent and significance as a musical artist.

With that in mind, Prom Queen will release a new EP on July 30th entitled Lucky. The 5-song EP is comprised purely of Britney Spears covers, interpreted in Prom Queen’s quintessential macabre-pop language, with a portion of the proceeds from the album going to the National Association to Stop Guardian Abuse.

“With this record, I want people to hear these songs in a different way, to celebrate Britney as an artist,” says Leeni. “If there’s a famous person who’s a man, and who is a brilliant artist but has mental illness, he is celebrated and he is given freedom and he is not being locked down by his mom. We make movies about men like this. These are celebrated stories for a man but for a woman to have any sort of challenges mentally is a problem and we need to lock her away and take away her rights and [say] oh my god, she can’t be a mother.”

Leeni, who is only one year apart in age from Britney Spears, has always enjoyed the pop star’s music and felt close to Spears, who she calls a “generational icon for people my age.” In fact, Leeni’s passion for Britney Spears actually helped her find employment after she first moved to Seattle in 2004.

“In 2005, I started really looking around for work and I was doing improv comedy and one of my improv friends was doing these singing telegrams through this agency called Livewire, and she got me connected with them. I became a performer for them and have worked with them for over a decade doing singing telegrams as different characters [including Britney Spears,]” she recalls. “I remember my first Britney gig – I was hired to walk around at the convention center downtown and all I had to do was wear this schoolgirl outfit and be Britney for a day and it was really fun. And then I remember also performing for some kid’s birthday party. It was so cute. There was a bunch of girls, and they just wanted me to show up and do a full Britney singalong with them.”

It was during her time working as a Britney Spears impersonator that Leeni said she learned Spears’ catalogue inside and out, and even then, knew someday she’d do a Britney Spears cover album. After all, Prom Queen loves to cover songs, something that garnered the band national attention in 2016, when Prom Queen’s mash-up of the Twin Peaks and Stranger Things themes, Stranger Peaks, went viral.

“I consider myself a melody junkie; there’s just melodies that I love and when you get to hear them in a different context – I don’t know, for me, it gives me goosebumps,” she says. “I want to hear a great interpretation of a melody that I love… Like when I did my cover of ‘November Rain,’ I was like, ‘That is a doo-wop song.’ I was so obsessed with making that song over the years. I think I started my first one in like 2009 and kept making that song until I felt like I got it right. I don’t know, I just always really love making covers.”

As for Lucky, Prom Queen has had the concept in her mind “for years,” and had been collecting and studying Britney Spears’ songs on a Spotify playlist, hoping to narrow down her extensive catalogue and choose the ones that would work best in Prom Queen’s style—which includes a slow country ballad version of Spears’ breakout hit “Baby One More Time,” a Dick Dale surf-rock version of “Toxic,” and a glimmering doo-wop adaptation of the EP’s eponymous “Lucky.”

“I’ve always wanted to do an EP of a single artist and Britney has kind of always been at the top of my list,” says Leeni. “I just feel like a great pop song is a great pop song and you can do a number of different things with it and if the bones of the song are good, you can really take it anywhere. I think these songs to me were some of the best. I had such a hard time choosing. I think these songs, it’s kind of my favorite cross-section of her [work.]”

Prom Queen started making demos of her favorite Britney songs in Spring of 2021, and sending them to her bandmate. She would lay down bass, the acoustic guitar and some sketches of the other instruments and then send them to other folks she wanted to include on the record—including locals Jason Goessl of Sundae and Mr. Goessl, guitarist Ben Von Wildenhaus, violinist Andrew Joslyn, and fellow Britney Spears-loving L.A.-based singer, Cassandra Violet.

“Cassandra Violet is a friend of mine and she’s a big Britney fan. She wrote a piece on Medium about Britney and she just released her debut album and she has a song about Britney Spears, and she and I have collaborated a few times so I thought it would be really great to have her sing the harmony on ‘Lucky,’” Leeni says. “And then I got Andrew Joslyn to do the strings, so those are real strings on the EP.”

Each musician recorded their tracks for Lucky in their respective home studios, for COVID safety, and sent them back to Leeni, at which point Tom Meyers, Prom Queen’s drummer, engineered and mixed the EP. Prom Queen has already released their video for “Baby One More Time,” and the band is currently working on a video for “Toxic.”

As for what she hopes this EP can achieve, Leeni hopes it reminds her fans that Prom Queen is still making music, and that it gives fans some fun nostalgic pop music to enjoy over the summer. She also hopes the EP’s celebration of Britney’s music can underscore the importance of Spears’ struggle, advocating that the pop star should get to choose what the rest of her life looks like—even if it means never returning to the stage.

“I hope that she can get her freedom. I hope they can end the conservatorship. I hope that she can even get a restraining order against her father or whatever she needs, but you know, I don’t think that she needs to be in the public eye ever again if she doesn’t want to,” says Leeni. “Whatever she wants to do with the rest of her life, I want it to be her choice.”

Follow Prom Queen on Facebook for ongoing updates.

Debut Single from THEM “Bad 4 U” is Good for the Future of Seattle Music

For a many years now, the future of the Seattle music scene—one that has long been defined by the vibrant grunge and DIY rock scene of the 1990s— has been in question due to Big Tech money and the extensive forces of gentrification overtaking the city. As Bandcamp Daily recently wrote about the status of the Seattle scene, “Flannel-wearing, granola-eating punks were pushed out of the way by the formidable income of North Face-wearing yuppies who could afford $20 bowls of paella as an appetizer.”

Sure enough, many artists have moved away due to the skyrocketing Seattle prices, irrevocably altering the Seattle music scene and sending many Seattle music fans scrambling to establish new nonprofits and venues that could help preserve what’s left. What’s more, many of the issues the scene was facing before have been exacerbated tenfold by the COVID-19 pandemic.

But when you hear THEM, a brand new band of Seattle-bred teenagers, you hear hope. Their debut single, “Bad 4 U,” which dropped on June 5th, is the natural continuation and expansion of what Seattle music has always been about—gritty, honest, and unique rock brought to life with the help of the local music community that’s rallied around them.

THEM is named for the first letter of each multi-instrumentalist member’s name: 16 year-old Thompson, 16 year-old Hudson, 19 year-old Ellie, and 19 year-old Maia. The foursome met when they were put in a group class together at West Seattle’s Mode Music Studios, a mainstay local music school that opened in 2014 and is operated entirely by working Seattle musicians. Over the years, the school has boasted such notable teachers as Jen Wood from The Postal Service, solo artist Maiah Manser, Rat Queen’s Jeff Tapia, and KEXP radio host and The Black Tones lead vocalist and guitarist, Eva Walker.

All four of the girls started taking private lessons at Mode Music Studios years ago—Ellie, in fact, was one of the school’s first students. “Mode is mostly one-on-one private lessons. That’s how all four of us started,” says Ellie. “But we got recruited to do this Sunday night rock band class which we all four were in and that’s how our group formed. We were in this Sunday night class that we’re paying for, just us four, collaborating, really just covering our favorite songs.” That was four years ago; initally, local singer-songwriter and drummer Heather Thomas taught the rock band class before Eva Walker took over. From there, the group began to play gigs around Seattle.

“Once the pandemic started [we couldn’t] really do a virtual class and we were starting to write our own songs,” Ellie continues. “So we just took it into our own hands and went to each others’ houses and continued the weekly group.”

As the pandemic went on, THEM pulled back from playing shows and instead worked on writing music until they had enough for a debut album, which Ellie says will be released sometime late this year. “Bad 4 U” is the first single to be released off the forthcoming record, and it’s based on the rest of the group’s reaction to one band member’s bad boy crush.

“Hudson brought it to the band actually in probably April or May 2020,” says Ellie. “Hudson pulled this song out of nowhere and played it for us and we loved it—we all related to it differently because it’s basically about liking somebody who’s not good for you, or liking somebody who you know is bad but it doesn’t matter.”

As Hudson shared more about the song, the rest of the band realized they knew this crush—and agreed it was probably best she steer clear of him. For that reason, the group decided to have Thompson, who’s close friends with Hudson, echo Hudson’s vocals at the chorus with sound best friend advice: “You know he’s bad for you.”

This creative choice—and the song’s refined rock sensibility— underscores just how mature these girls are, despite their youth. They perform with soul and heart, they add call and response, they play with sound density and form. Their professionalism reflects their hard-work and talent, as well as the ample mentorship they’ve had along the way—both from the teachers at Mode and from other cultural institutions in Seattle.

“We have kind of grown from Seattle Theater Group education program. We were in Moore Music at the Moore last year and we’ve been in STG songwriters’ classes for like the past four or five years,” explains Ellie. She’s also spent several years beefing up on music business and social media management, primarily by working at Mode Music’s front desk and eventually becoming The Black Tones’ social media manager.

“Eva saw my work at Mode and… saw that I was interested in studying music business so she asked me to do their social media,” says Ellie. “I started off posting for them and that work has spread. I started doing social media for [the band] Warren Dunes as well, and then [for] Seattle Secret Shows. I’ve done a few things for Seattle Theater Group, too, and now I’m about to start with Naked Giants and a few local LA bands because I’m actually moving to LA in a few months.” There, she’ll finish up her Bachelors degree in entertainment business at LA Film School.

Ellie’s applying what she learns to the promotion of THEM, and no, the group has no plans of breaking up while Ellie finishes her schooling. Instead, they plan to leverage Ellie’s change of locale to broaden the reach of THEM, and Ellie says she will definitely be flying back and forth this summer to play the shows they have on the calendar.

When asked about her perspective on the future of the Seattle music scene, her perspective is sunny—noting that the pandemic hasn’t been all bad because the time helped THEM get inspired and create. She expects other artists have had similar experiences.

“I think we’re going to bounce back just fine,” she says. “I think during the pandemic people were kind of M.I.A. and got really inspired. We wrote a whole album’s worth of songs. I think the fans are really going to benefit from that when things open up and see that the growth that some of their favorite artists have done during the pandemic.”

Ellie sees talent in her age group simmering and swelling, ready to lay down some tracks and make it big. The list of local artist peers that inspire THEM is long—and includes her boyfriend Destin Mai of Ambient Village, who produced, mixed and mastered “Bad 4 U.”

“We’ve met so many aspiring young artists. King Sheim—everything they’re doing right now is amazing. Amy Hall, she’s also amazing,” says Ellie.

In Ellie’s eyes, too, there’s a new “Seattle sound” bubbling up among the next generation of artists, born from the combination of the DIY rock/pop sound the city’s long been known for and Seattle’s vibrant underground hip-hop scene and wealth of talented producers and emcees.

“I definitely think that there’s some inspiration from new pop music that’s coming out, like Olivia Rodrigo—she’s got a full band but there’s 808 [drum machines] in her music. It’s kind of a mix of that hip-hop and pop sound,” says Ellie. “It’s like a full band like us, falling into the hands of a hip-hop producer, like how we’re working with Destin and he’s putting in automated drums in our music—I think that that is itself a new sound for sure.”

Follow Them on Instagram for ongoing updates.

Washington-bred Queer Roots Artist McKain Lakey Blasts Gender Inequality with “Decibel Jezebel”

In music, the unequal representation of women is an industry-wide issue with a lasting ripple effect. There’s no sector of the industry with a more pronounced gender gap than in engineering and producing. According to reports by the Audio Engineering Society, women make up just 5% to 7% of audio engineers and producers. Organizations like Women’s Audio Mission, report that the number is probably even lower.

Rampant sexism is the cause—and the effect— of such poor representation on the tech and production side of music. Most women don’t even get into sound engineering because it’s so male-dominated, which then perpetuates the inequity. If a woman does manage to survive school and become sound engineer or producer, they can then expect to be continually mistaken for something other than the engineer (usually the singer or a roadie) and to have their engineering or producing abilities consistently questioned and ridiculed.

This dejecting reality is one that Washington-bred queer roots artist McKain Lakey knows well, both a graduate of Berklee School of Music’s mostly-male audio engineering program and as a live sound engineer who’s toured with bands. In fact, it was the unsavory experiences she had as an audio engineer that inspired her new single, “Decibel Jezebel,” which she premieres with Audiofemme today in anticipation of her upcoming debut full-length album, Somewhere, out May 14, 2021.

“Decibel Jezebel” begins with what Lakey calls “audio nerd jokes” and then dives into a biting criticism of the sexual objectification and under-appreciation she experienced as an engineer.

“You’ll notice the difference if I increase by three/My voice doubles at ten – if I do that again, will you stop stifling me?” Lakey sings. “That decibel jezebel, she couldn’t possibly hear in those jeans/But you can’t scare me straight cuz I know that no one listens linearly.”

Though the song is specifically addressing what she experienced as a femme audio engineer, Lakey also found it grew into a larger commentary of “women and non cis-dudes in the service industry being in this position of having to conform to ways of being in the world that are placed upon us rather than being given the agency to present as we want to and as we are. [It] morphed into a commentary on the patriarchy.”

In service of the broader relatability of sexism in music, Lakey invites her close friend, saxophonist Jane Covert-Bowlds, to appear on “Decibel Jezebel.” Covert-Bowlds performs a goose-bump-giving solo that exudes solidarity and sisterhood and exhibits her command of an instrument that is been typically associated with men.

“Jane was someone – we connect as friends, but I knew she had a really special take on that song as an [woman] instrumentalist and I really wanted to feature her,” says Lakey. “I knew specifically that I wanted Jane to play on it because we have talked a lot about experiences being queer women musicians and what that looks like and the struggles that go along with [our] identity.”

With Somewhere, Lakey also contributes to the growing visibility of queer-identifying artists in country music, a genre that is typically associated with two forces that typically harm, hinder, and exclude queer folks—conservative politics and rural America. But, as Lakey, who grew up just north of Seattle in the rural town of Bow, Washington, points out, that’s not the entire history of roots and country music.

“The more that I learn and go back and research the beginnings of country music and the class and racial history of country music and roots music in general in the United States, the more I think there was this turning point in the history of recorded music where all of a sudden music went from being something you played in your living room to being something that was sold and marketed to specific audiences,” says Lakey. “That was the point at which country music… created these lines. When in fact, there are many amazing, radical, queer, Black blues singers from like the ’20s and ’30s. You know, I think about the history of music in the US and think like, actually, queerness has a place in this and always has had a place in this. This isn’t so much a radical new thing. This is just saying, ‘We’re here. We’ve always been here. And it would be nice to be seen for who we are.'” 

In that way, Lakey highlights and subverts forces in society that work to suppress her identity, purely by sharing vulnerable, arresting stories from her life as a queer person on Somewhere.

“I have benefitted a lot from the privilege of being a white person, a straight-passing, cis-passing person, and have not had to bear the weight of mistreatment that so many of my LGBTQ+ siblings have. But I did spend a long time feeling unsettled and unseen,” says Lakey. “And it feels important to me to represent queerness as something that has as many expressions as there are queer people, and that queerness is about your relationship with yourself, not about who you have sex with or how others define you.”

There is perhaps no song on the album that does the latter better than “Queer AF,” Lakey’s take on classic country twang with a rainbow twist. With the bold chorus—”Queer as fuck and cute as fuck,”—Lakey highlights queer love in the face of persistent anti-LGBTQ sentiment.

The song was written during Lakey’s time in Mountain View, Arkansas, where she lived above a music store and taught old time music to kids from 2018 until the fall of 2020. Since then, Lakey’s hit the road and stopped in Seattle—where she recorded the new record at Seattle’s Crackle & Pop! Studio—New Orleans, and now, Indianapolis. Lakey’s travels lend her lyrics a searching quality and put a variety of sonic tools, from old time banjo to the Seattle rock grit, in her toolbox. She draws on each with creativity and ease, following her philosophy about roots music.

“I’m definitely simplifying this narrative, but the history of roots music in the US is very diverse and represents a lot of different people bringing a lot of different things to the table and referencing each other and learning from each other,” she says. “I feel like for me it’s not so much being radical as it is saying, like, hey actually let’s look back at the history of this music and be true to what the history of this music is, which is representing working-class people of all different backgrounds.”

Lakey says her travels also contributed to her landing on the title Somewhere, which was produced Johnny Sangster (Mudhoney, The Posies, Neko Case) and features a cast of Seattle mainstay artists like fiddler Annie Ford, guitarist Bill Patton and bassist Aaron Harmonson. “[Somewhere] is about searching for home. [I’m wondering] what is home? What is the culture of this country? It’s all these different things that I’ve been learning and digging into that hopefully translate to this…idea of where are we going? Oh, somewhere.”

But even as she wonders where she’s going, Lakey is clearly someone who knows who she is and what she has to say in her music. “Decibel Jezebel”—with its fierce self-possession and dismissal of those who’ve underestimated her—is proof of that, as is the rest of her brave forthcoming album.

Follow McKain Lakey on Facebook and Instagram for ongoing updates.

Beth Whitney Contemplates Both Sides of Loneliness with “Moonlight” Video Premiere

Photo Credit: Eratosthenes Fackenthall

When asked why she makes music, Pacific Northwest songwriter Beth Whitney begins a story about a transient woman she met in Modesto with a ball of tangled fishing line.

“She sat next to me and she had a backpack and she took it off. She reached into her backpack and took out this big, basketball-size collection of tangled fishing line, and she started, with hands that were shaking a little bit, to unravel it and straighten it out,” says Whitney. “Finally, after 20 minutes I was like, ‘Do you want me to help you with your fishing line?’ And she said, ‘No, this is just something I have to do with my hands.’”

For Whitney, making music is the same way. The process of creating songs is a bit of an obsession, born from her desire to untangle the chaos of her own life into something more intelligible and beautiful to share. And Whitney’s newest album, Into The Ground, which drops May 28th on Tone Tree Records, does just that.

With her sense-making lyrics and familiar melodies, Whitney powerfully clarifies the meanings in her own nature-soaked life and provides listeners a way through their own internal chaos. There’s no better example of the grounding essence of Whitney’s songwriting style than her latest single “Moonlight” and its accompanying behind-the-scenes studio video, which Audiofemme premieres today.

It wasn’t long ago that Whitney wouldn’t have identified as musical. Growing up in the small rural town of Snohomish, Washington, a town she says is “all about school sports,” softball was the lens through which she looked at life for many years. She was a pitcher until she broke the index finger on her right hand; serendipitously, it was around this time that she was approached by a friend from church, who was holding a guitar. He simply asked her, “Could you use this?”

“I was like, ‘Yeah, I think I can,’ even though I didn’t play music or anything at the time,” remembers Whitney. From there, she started learning to fingerpick—which was all she could do with her broken finger splinted—and even wrote a song on a whim for her sophomore English class.

“I wrote this song and I played it for the class which was kind of nerve-wracking and I was just like, well, maybe it’ll get me a C,” she says. “But after I finished the song they all jumped up and gave me a standing ovation and I was like, what in the world? It made me think—this connects. I was like, ‘here I am.'”

In that way, music and songwriting were quite literally gifts Whitney was given and learned to use, and so she rarely refers to her music as hers. It’s about all of us. “Music has helped me hold this life itself with more open hands,” she says. “I think we as human beings are unbelievably more complex than we can measure, and also much more simple. We all know life is loaded with the brutal and the beautiful all intertwined [and] for me the search for poetry in there keeps me tethered.”

Listeners will hear the organic way Whitney creates, and how her songs are both personally and universally relevant, on “Moonlight.” The song begins with the peddling of two notes on guitar, and a gently ebbing vocal melody. Its major harmony coupled with Whitney’s poetic lyrics are both vaguely familiar and uniquely her own; Whitney has also intentionally inserted instrumental space, led by cellist Natalie Mai Hall, in order to activate her listener’s own musings within the framework of the song.

“The verses are so short and so straight. I definitely poured into them, but even when writing it, I thought, ‘Let’s just have this big instrumental section and we’ll come back in.’ The whole idea [was] to have this string section where the listener is talking with… and contemplating the moon,” Whitney explains.

As a result, “Moonlight” is one of the most grounding songs to listen to on Into The Ground, which is saying a lot, because the entire album has a clear, present, in-the-moment feel about it. And yet, “Moonlight” almost didn’t happen. It was actually not the one she had planned to record that day at Tacoma’s Mothership Studio – she was debating between three other songs, but found herself writing this one in the wee hours before the studio session instead.

“The song is somewhat inspired by my son. He looked up at the sky and he’s like, ‘Moon come down from there and play with me,’ and it was this sweet interactive thing he had with the moon and then that planted something in me,” says Whitney. “Years later I wrote this song [about] a profound loneliness that I thought was just mine. The older I get the more I realize how lonely a lot of people are in this existential way. People surrounded by others, people loved, gregarious and outgoing, and always surrounded by other people.”

While of course, loneliness is always inextricably connected to feelings of sadness and isolation, Whitney’s observance of the moon’s loneliness also welcomes the light side of alone-ness; the strength and presence of mind that being alone can afford. After all, this is a two-sided coin that Whitney herself flips everyday.

In fact, Whitney lives with her husband, Aaron Fishburn (who plays bass on the album), and their two kids, deep in the woods near the quaint mountain town of Leavenworth, Washington in a secluded rustic cabin Whitney’s grandparents built in the seventies, complete with wood-burning stove, a composting toilet and unreliable cell service and WiFi. There, they focus on immersing themselves and their kids in the natural world—an introspective, quiet way of life that unavoidably permeates “Moonlight,” and the whole of Into The Ground.

“You walk outside and the songs sort of write themselves,” she says. “You look at the moon and you’re like, how lonely is that, but how majestic is it, and how strong is it anyway, and it’s just getting its light from the sun and reflecting it back to us and it’s fine, it’s not jealous of the sun or something. You go out and the songs kind of write themselves. It feels like cheating.”

The accompanying video for “Moonlight,” created by Whitney’s friend Michael Krantz, who took footage of Whitney and her band while they recorded the song in the studio, often zooms in on Whitney’s profile, flanked by sunlight, then switches to her nodding along with the instrumental section against a dark, amber-lit backdrop. In that way, it also plays on her contemplation of the dark and the light in her own life, of the moon, and of loneliness, all the while highlighting the mystical experience Whitney had writing and recording of the album.

“The studio experience for this album was so incredible and life-giving and magical,” says Whitney. “Everything came in for that week and just fit beautifully.”

Follow Beth Whitney on Facebook for ongoing updates.

Pikefruit Tease Debut LP Inflorescence with Shimmering Single “Wish You Were Here”

What happens when you bring together two musically inventive, botany-obsessed Seattleites? You get Pikefruit, a local duo that draws on the techniques of electronic production and their love of the Pacific Northwest’s lush natural world, in the pursuit of dynamic, orchestrated chamber pop.

Pikefruit, named for Pike Street in Seattle and the duo’s shared love of plants, released their first EP, Sprig, in 2019. Their debut full-length Inflorescence drops May 14, 2021, and last week they shared the album’s first single, “Wish You Were Here.”

“Wish You Were Here,” epitomizes why Pikefruit are one of the most exciting up-and-coming groups in the area today. The unique, shimmering synth creates a metallic underpinning for high, reverberant vocals. The result is alluringly catchy—even dancey, at times—without sounding cheap or overly-commercial.

Pikefruit’s otherworldly production is the work of Alex, who started getting interested in production as a kid, after witnessing an elementary school music teacher demoing a MIDI keyboard.

“I remember…being enchanted (and baffled) by how it changed from a piano to a flute to an accordion to whatever other (probably awful) presets were built in to it,” says Alex, who, along with singer Nicole, prefer to keep their last names anonymous. “It felt like there were limitless possibilities within the keyboard, though in retrospect there were probably only like 50 instruments. It was a long time before I understood what that keyboard was actually doing, but I never really lost that sense of wonder.”

Alex’s interest in making electronic music grew exponentially – he liked school band, but not playing other people’s music. Once he got his hands on music notation software Sibelius, he began learning to arrange, at first for a bassoon trio (of all things).

He soon found himself wanting to explore a larger pallet of sounds than the existing instruments he had access to could offer him, so he turned to production. By 2013, as his list of loops, samples, and textures grew, he began to seek a vocalist to add lyrics to his sonic landscapes. He scoured the internet and found Nicole, who until that point had only sung karaoke with friends or a solo in the shower.

“He messaged me and said he wanted to hear my voice, and I was like, ‘I’m not a professional, but sure,’ and he’s like, ‘That’s okay, I just want to hear it,'” remembers Nicole. “He was looking specifically for something between Passion Pit’s Chunk of Change, Beach House, and the vocals from Chvrches. He had a really specific idea of what he wanted to create and he was looking for, basically, the missing piece – which I guess was me.”

At the time, Nicole wasn’t necessarily looking to perform, though she did enjoy singing. In fact, she says she was really embarrassed when she recorded a short audition tape for Alex and shared it with him. “I went to his apartment and let him listen to it on my phone with headphones and I threw a blanket over my head and I was like, ‘Okay, just don’t look at me while you’re listening to it.’ I’ve come a long way from there.”

She definitely has. Almost a decade later and Pikefruit has grown from a fun hobby project to an actual professional group, with an EP, and now an LP, to their name. Still, there’s a note of surprise in Nicole’s voice when she discusses how far they’ve come.

“I didn’t think it was going to go anywhere. I thought we were just making music for fun. I didn’t realize he wanted to actually show it to people. But then he was like, no, people need to hear this,” says Nicole. “He really drove us from super amateur, like recorded on our laptops, to being professionally recorded and shared with other people.”

Sure enough, Inflorescence, is their most polished album to date—even as they handled all the recording, producing, songwriting and instrumentation themselves. All the while, they manage to skillfully grow an album from a subtle and malleable concept—Inflorescence is about the different moods we all go through, and aims to have them flow organically from one song to the next, as a mood would change in life.

“It’s different emotional expressions. Every song is a different idea, in a way. We didn’t write all love songs, or we didn’t write all of one particular theme,” says Nicole. “‘We Begin’ has recordings from a playground and [represents] the freshness of the really early morning and that crispness when the sun is just rising and there might be dew on the grass and the flowers around you as you’re walking. And then it kind of morphs and evolves through not even a fraction of the ideas and states that people are in throughout the day.”

That said, Nicole and Alex don’t like to make it too obvious what their songs are about. They leave that element of mystery intact, so as not to impede the listener’s own interpretation of their music. “The catalyst for each of the songs on Inflorescence can be traced back to some particular experience Nicole or I had, but the main exercise during the songwriting process was to incorporate other related experiences and build a more abstract or conceptual interpretation of the experience,” explains Alex.

Still, “Wish You Were Here,” has a concrete birthplace—in the booth of a restaurant where Alex, who was eating with someone glued to their phone, felt like he was competing with a social media feed. “I don’t remember who it even was at this point – it was many years ago – and the song in its final form isn’t really about them specifically. As Nicole and I developed the idea into a full song, we incorporated other similar experiences of longing for significant others who just weren’t paying attention,” says Alex.

It makes sense that a lack of awareness from a friend or lover would bother Pikefruit enough to inspire one of their songs—their careful attention to each layered detail, vocal part, and lyric is exactly what makes Inflorescence such a lush, interesting delight.

Follow Pikefruit on Facebook and Instagram for ongoing updates.

Delvon Lamarr Organ Trio Deliver on a Promise with Sophomore LP I Told You So

Photo Credit: Francis A. Willey

With the release of their newest album, I Told You So, which drops today on Colemine Records, Seattle’s simmering soul-jazz Delvon Lamarr Organ Trio deliver on a promise they made to their fans more than two years ago.

Shortly after the 2018 release of their debut album, Close But No Cigar, the trio’s long-time drummer, David McGraw, departed the band, leaving fans disappointed and worried that the trio would lose their quintessential in-the-pocket sound.

“David has such a distinct way of drumming. It was very pocket, very soul. It was like Motown-type soul drumming. And we’ve never really had anybody that played like that. So when David left the band it was a lot of people were worrying about well they’re not going to sound the same,” says bandleader Delvon Lamarr. “I told them, I will find the right drummer. The album is called I Told You So because I told you guys the album is still going to be good regardless of who’s on it.”

While the album’s title is tongue-in-cheek, it more than fulfills that prediction. Featuring Lamarr on organ, the incomparable Jimmy James on guitar, and their choice for solid “pocket” drummer on the recording, Grant Schroff—from another popular Seattle group, The Polyrhythmics—I Told You So has every bit the groovy throwback sound their debut had, with some fresh additions.

While I Told You So still has plenty of that nostalgic 60’s soul-jazz vibe they’re known for, the trio brings in more diverse influences that underscore and build on their unique sound. “I think we kind of broadened the musical spectrum, like our influences, into our newest album and it’s been progressing,” Lamarr says.

In fact, several of the tracks, including the notably more melancholic “From the Streets,” embraces a low-key hip hop feel and spacious guitar loop unlike other previously-released music. Turns out that was an intentional nod toward some other music Lamarr and company are into. “I love anything by J Dilla, stuff like that. Old hip hop, I listen to a lot of cats like Slum Village and Talib Kweli. That laid back, you know—way behind the beat stuff,—D’Angelo does that a lot. That’s my thing,” he explains.

As well, the trio lays down a cool version of “Careless Whipser,” a 1984 pop ballad written by George Michael that recently had a resurgence in 2011 after The Sexy Sax Man’s satirical performance of the song on YouTube became a viral sensation. In 2021, Lamarr and company reinvent the song yet again, making the schmaltzy pop anthem and internet meme into one of the album’s most impressive and listenable bangers. Funny, because Lamarr almost didn’t record it.

“It was a thing that we did at live shows and I thought, I don’t know if anybody wants to hear this on an album. But my wife Amy [Nova] was like, ‘Dude, you gotta record it man! I think it’s going to be a hit,'” says Lamarr.

This isn’t the first time Nova has had good instincts when it comes to her husband’s music. In fact, Lamarr credits Nova as the reason behind the trio’s formation in 2015. “She built this [trio] from the ground up,” Lamarr says. “She asked me for years to start my own band and I didn’t want to. She just watched me struggle so much as a musician and she was like, ‘You’re too good for this man. You get some guys together, write some music. I’ll take care of everything else.'”

Nova was also instrumental in getting the group signed to their Ohio-based label, Colemine Records, which has the perfect retro branding and roster to complement the Delvon Lamarr Organ Trio. “They’re great, man. What I really like about them is they’re two brothers that own it, Terry and Bob, and they have the same philosophy we have in this band – we always say we just play music we like to hear and when you do that people are going to love it,” Lamarr says.

Lamarr, James, and their new permanent drummer Dan Weiss, like most of the music industry, haven’t been able to perform live or tour since the onset of COVID-19. Being stationary doesn’t come easy for the trio, who usually tour throughout Europe and Japan for most the year and are so well-known in Europe they get called out in train stations. Hence, their biggest hope for 2021—aside from hoping that I Told You So is as well-received as their debut was—is to get back out there and see their fans.

“That’s our thing. That’s what we enjoy,” says Lamarr. “It’s great to be at a studio recording. But it is what it is. I got to be on the road, I got to be on the stage. That’s my dream and goal. It’s always been.”

Follow Delvon Lamarr Organ Trio on Facebook and Instagram for ongoing updates.

Seattle’s Sundae Crush Serve Up Psych-infused Solidarity with “Don’t Give Up” Video

After the year we all just had, it’s completely understandable if you feel like giving up. But with “Don’t Give Up,” Seattle’s Sundae Crush have arrived to offer you another option: How about a therapeutic float through a neon floral wonderland?

In the psychedelic, prairie-inspired video, designed by visual duo The Valdez, band founder Jena Pyle and bassist/vocalist Izaac Mellow are dressed in twee floral and ruffled outfits from a clothing line fittingly titled “Ugly House on the Prairie,” by Seattle-based no-waste clothing designer Janelle Rabbott, (a.k.a. JRAT). Lyrically, Pyle and Mellow offer strength, support and solidarity as they sing, “Don’t give up so soon/You know that I’ve been there.”

“Don’t Give Up” was first penned in 2018 as part of Sundae Crush’s live scoring of Sailor Moon R at Northwest Film Forum’s Puget Soundtrack series. Originally called “Don’t Give Up, Sailor Moon,” this song was written for a scene where the manga princess is feeling extra discouraged. With an effect similar to that of a flick of that legendary moon-shaped wand, the song lends the listener a little self-empowerment magic for the hard times—and that’s exactly what Sundae Crush intended.

“‘Don’t Give Up’ feels like the healing process – the acknowledgment,” says Mellow. “I think about how excited I was when I recorded the bell kit part on that song. I could just feel it in my head; this is going to sound so good and positive and poppy.”

But Sundae Crush’s effusive joy didn’t exactly come naturally. The song—in fact, the whole record—is dedicated to Pyle’s therapist, who has helped her get through difficult times. Released in November 2020 by fresh Seattle label Donut Sounds Record Co., A Real Sensation centers the importance of caring for your mental health, so much so that the band is donating 50% of the sales from first 100 vinyl copies of the LP, as well as 25% of merch sales, to the WA Therapy Fund to support Black healing.

“A lot of the time I was writing songs, it was usually after some sort of conversation that I had with my therapist, so that was a lot of my process for the record, for sure,” says Pyle. “I really wanted to give back in some way [with this album]… so I took the opportunity to donate part of the record to something that would be really helpful. I would really love for therapy to be free in the future, hopefully.”

In 2015, Pyle moved to Seattle from her college town of Denton, Texas, with the dream of Sundae Crush already in her heart. At the time, she had a project called Layer Cake, which nodded to her love of food and the “aesthetics of cute,” two themes she continues to riff on in Sundae Crush.


After a few temporary lineups in 2017-2019, Sundae Crush’s current iteration was born a few years after Pyle’s start in Seattle when she crossed paths with bassist/vocalist Izaac Mellow, guitarist/vocalist Emily Harris, and drummer Dan Shapiro, while out and about at shows in Seattle. Notably, Shapiro got involved with the band shortly after hearing the group perform at a gritty house show, where he endured an awkward Tinder date.

“The Tinder date was not good. I think they left and I was watching the show. They were like, ‘peace,'” remembers Shapiro. “But I saw them for the first time and I had a similar reaction that Izaac had, like this is the best band ever.”

Many Seattleites feel the same way. In fact, Seattle Weekly noted Sundae Crush’s debut EP Crushed as one of the best local albums when it was released in April 2017.

A Real Sensation represents what makes Sundae Crush so sweet, mixing the shimmering sounds of throwback psychedelia and the country authenticity of Pyle’s Texas upbringing for a fresh take on Seattle’s low-maintenance, D.I.Y. rock aesthetic. The video for “Don’t Give Up” dials that aesthetic all the way up – while reminding us all to keep going.

Follow Sundae Crush on Facebook and Instagram for ongoing updates.

PREMIERE: Seattle’s Cool Ruins Faces The Fire with New Video

In late May, while listening to police flash-bangs and screams of protestors outside his apartment in Seattle during the widespread protests following the May 25 death of George Floyd, multi-instrumentalist Jordan Thomas, a.k.a. Cool Ruins, says he felt the true implications of living in what he calls “a police state under the illusion of democracy.” In his fear, confusion and outrage, Thomas turned to his “loudest voice,” the original music he’s created as Cool Ruins for approximately five years.

“[I felt] utterly trapped,” said Thomas. “I, like a lot of people I think, am looking to find a way to express that our society has failed its people. My art is the most powerful way I can do that so I created an intense portrait of the times we are in.”

On August 28, 2020, Cool Ruins dropped his newest LP, Unfeeling, an ambient, glitch-soaked musical experience accentuated by Thomas’ caustic lyrics that take an unflinching look at life as we know it in 2020. The album is a sonic gut-check—an invitation to scrutinize the state of the world and ourselves, while enveloped in an otherworldly electronic soundscape. Today, Cool Ruins premieres their video for “The Fire, pt. 2″—one of the album’s boldest and most poignant tracks.

The video for “The Fire, pt. 2” opens to Thomas, half-naked and masked, writhing and gyrating against a cold concrete wall. Slowly, the image of a burning cop car in downtown Seattle fades in. As the foreboding track grows in rhythmic complexity and intensity, Thomas is shown with his head in his hands, his arms waving fanatically, trying to escape. The entire video was shot by Thomas on a GoPro in his apartment—which doubles down on the raw, vulnerable mood.

With this marriage of the emotional visuals with the track, “The Fire, pt. 2” becomes a haunting representation of the effect this crazy and painful year—ripe with social unrest, disease, and the hefty foreboding of apocalypse—has had on many of us. This makes the song and the video very relatable to watch. “To me it’s the visual representation of what’s happening inside my head. I know I’m not alone in that. Naked and masked I am writhing to break free,” said Thomas.

Ironically, Cool Ruins says he hadn’t completely planned this emotional resonance for the song. At the time of writing it, in fact, it was the only track on the album where he didn’t quite know its inspiration. He finally understood the greater meaning of his art once the visual was complete. “It was one of those extremely rare instances when the video created a new meaning for the music. The visual is so powerful that it changed the context of the song. ‘The Fire’ is the chaos that has enveloped our society,” said Thomas.

In more typical times, Thomas says Cool Ruins material refrains from such political statements, but he doesn’t believe he has the luxury to ignore the present state of the world. He feels a sense of responsibility to his listeners. “To be honest I never used to feel it was necessary to [be political],” he said. “But we live in a different time now. In these tumultuous times, it is the duty of the artist to enter into the abstract and return with a moral vision of the future.”

Cool Ruins hopes this track will be an invitation to break free of what entraps and maddens us. “Ultimately I’d like people to come away with a sense of empowerment to be able to freely express themselves and enact change,” Thomas said. “To examine and understand their deepest strengths and use them to make the world a better and more just place for everyone.”

Follow Cool Ruins on Facebook for ongoing updates.

Jessica Dobson of Deep Sea Diver Discusses Resplendent New LP Impossible Weight

Jessica Dobson is a quiet giant of contemporary indie music. Along with performing her own material in Deep Sea Diver, Dobson has worked with indie music darlings like Beck, Conor Oberst, Spoon, and The Shins. And yet, if you said her name to the person next to you, they likely wouldn’t know who exactly she is.

This needs to change, and with the October 16th release of Deep Sea Diver’s newest album Impossible Weight via High Beam/ATO, it likely will. Deep Sea Diver’s third album is emotionally ferocious and tender at the same time, capturing Dobson’s uncanny ability to create transcendent and distinct worlds with a well-honed ear for production, much of which she co-produced. Lyrically, Impossible Weight is spun from a complex time for Dobson, as she considered heightened anxiety issues, the death of a dear friend and collaborator, and long-standing questions about her identity.

AF: I know you were born in LA. When did you move to Seattle? 

JD: I moved to Seattle in the very beginning of 2011. Before that I was living in Long Beach, California and I grew up in Orange County, then finally migrated up here. Peter Mansen, who’s my partner—we’re married and he’s also our drummer in the band—he’s from here. So, he was like, ‘Want a fresh start in Seattle?’ and I said, ‘Yeah, that sounds awesome.’ 

AF: You were signed by Atlantic at 19 years-old; was music, specifically rock guitar music made my women, in your life at a young age? How did you know this was a career that was possible for you?

JD: I did have examples. But I think at a young age it didn’t register with me to do it because I had gendered role models. I just saw an instrument and I was like yep, this is what I’m doing. It was more like following instinct at that point versus looking at something so I could have permission to do it.

AF: I love that you weren’t seeking permission. But, have you had any significant challenges in your music career because of your gender?

JD: I think that very often growing up there are definitely certain boxes that people tend to push you in and I was kind of set at an early age to not be put in those boxes. So, at the time there was a lot of like, acoustic female singer songwriting music out there—like in elementary school there was Jewel, and [others]—and I totally respect them but that wasn’t necessarily for me. I think I have always had an independent spirit when it comes to sound engineering and production, things that are kind of scary worlds sometimes for females because they’re worlds that are male-dominated. I was trying to peer behind the curtain from a young age and educate myself and other females who wanted to do the same thing. Not so I could be like “let me show you” but I think now I’m very passionate about demystifying a lot of those realms for female identifying people. 

AF: I re-read a 2016 piece from The Stranger about your second release and the author called your time with Atlantic “ill-fated.” I’m wondering, was it really “ill-fated” or did it teach you something that you’re bringing forward with you?

JD: Signing that Atlantic record deal—it was ill-fated but also beautiful because part of [me] wants to learn and forge [my] way forward— I’m grateful that it happened then, not now. And so I think…the best thing about that time that was “ill-fated” was the rejection that I felt, the understanding of what was going on in my body—I was experiencing anxiety but I didn’t understand what that was at that time and now I have better language for that and better tools to deal with it. [There were feelings of] rejection and sadness and I didn’t know what I was doing, and I made this thing but it never came out. Maybe that’s a good thing and I was able to use some of that music to move forward and start Deep Sea Diver.

Now, even on a song like “Impossible Weight,” I think for a long time I was like, ‘That is so in the past and I don’t really care about it anymore [or want] to talk about it.” Even at some points, to be honest, I was just irritated, like why is it always being brought up in interviews? But it’s a good question, you know… Those moments in life, they do brand you in a certain way, and you can choose what you want to do with the pain and the hardships. For me, “Impossible Weight” was a song where I finally—it’s not all about Atlantic—but it is kind of like speaking to the gatekeepers and speaking to my younger self. You can’t please everybody, you can’t carry that weight. So now I feel more confident in who I am, what I want to do and where I’m going and where this band is going. And it feels really beautiful. 

AF: I love the song, “Eyes are Red, Don’t Be Afraid.” I know that song is partly inspired by the Brett Kavanaugh trial; could tell me a little of your experience of watching that trial and how it informed the song? 

JD: That song was written in the midst of a lot of things. So, it wasn’t directly inspired by the trial but I was definitely able to finish my thoughts and lyrics and intentions while that was happening.

That song was the first song I wrote after I attempted to record album number three twice. I was kind of flailing around creatively, emotionally, really trying to find my footing. I had quit smoking and Peter had as well, so when you and your partner have both quit and that’s something you’ve used as a crutch for a long time, you know, it’s like “OK, this is where I’m at, and it’s going to be a little dark for a while but I’m going to push forward.” That was the first song I wrote as I was in the middle of quitting, and I had these mantras I would say to myself, these very simplistic lines, like, “don’t be afraid, don’t be ashamed.” And when I would start to write, I just had to say those things because I wasn’t feeling them and I wasn’t feeling any color in the world.

And so, most of that song is very intimate and very personal to me and what I was going through, but then it became part of a broader narrative. This is in like the thick of the Me Too movement, Harvey Weinstein, Trump. We thought we had progressed but these are still the issues at hand, like are you kidding me? We still have to convince people to listen to you if you’ve been abused? It’s just wild and so unfair. As a woman I felt the weight of that. The collective weight.

Then, there was an article, I think it was in the New Yorker, a journalist mentioned how many bodies have to be thrown onto the tracks to build up to stop this train? It will take more sacrifice unfortunately to get anything to change. That finished my song for me.

AF: Does music help you do that, help you understand your emotions? 

JD: Absolutely. I think I could be better at being a prolific songwriter, like honing my discipline by writing everyday. My history has definitely been: take a step away for a month or two months, and then when I’m feeling something there’s no stopping me from writing—it comes out, and that’s how I process my emotions. “Eyes Are Red, Don’t Be Ashamed,” was one of those songs where I couldn’t stop it. I also was wanting to pull the tracks out from under misogyny, sexual predators, all these systems that are still in place that allow those issues to thrive, and for women to not be believed. 

AF: I know you’ve been volunteering at Aurora Commons, a community space for unhoused folks in the North Seattle area. How has your time there influenced your music?

JD: That came into the song “Switchblade.” And, I would say, into the more general narrative of the record, which was just like, no longer letting myself be as veiled as I think I have been in the past lyrically. Sometimes, you want to say the true thing instead of making it poetic. And, I learned that deeper vulnerability volunteering at the Commons. 

AF: Are there any instances that come up for you when you think about your time there?

JD: Just personal stories – the things these women would share with me, trauma. The one consistent thing, hands down, with so many of these women is that there’s some kind of abuse in their childhood – sexual, violence or whatever, something traumatic has happened. It’s crazy to hear that kind of brutal honesty from them, and also at the same time be hearing in real time, “Hey, these are my needs,” because there’s no room to hide them because they’re living from minute to minute on the street. That showed me, even though I don’t have the same stories as they do and what they’ve gone through is a lot darker than what I’ve gone through in my life, it’s about compassion. I don’t even have the stomach anymore for hiding behind walls, mincing my words—this is what I’m going through and this is how I want to be here for people. 

AF: That really comes across and the listener can connect to that right away. Also, I hear a sort of haunting, bittersweet element, mingling with that increased decisiveness. I read that you recently reconnected with your birth mother and I’m wondering how that altered your perspective on identity and making music? 

JD: I think everyone can relate to the feeling of wanting to know where they belong, and even when you know those things it can still be tricky to be confident in who you are. I’ve always been searching for that big question, where do I belong? Sometimes it’s a question, hearkening back to what you were saying earlier about like women in the industry, like—where do I belong in this industry? How do I find my place and keep my voice and my independence, but also connect with other artists, other women, and be part of a community, not just an island?

When I met my birth mom, it answered a lot of curiosities that I had, like where did I come from, what’s the story? What did I look like? I had never seen a baby photo. I knew I was half Mexican and that’s it. And I knew her name. And then recently I found out—I don’t know who my birth dad is—but at least through 23andMe I found out, I was like holy shit, I’m half Jewish. I found out in the Taco Bell drive through. Many things have happened in the Taco Bell drive through for me.

AF: I know you co-produced this record. What do you enjoy the most about the production process? 

JD: Oh man, everything. It really is one of those times where I shine because I don’t overthink things, I’m just able to go, go, go. Whereas, I tend to overthink in the songwriting process. Like, if it doesn’t happen quickly I might kill a song because I overthink it and don’t finish it. But when a song is done, I call it done and that’s it, and it’s time to figure out what world that song needs to live in. With production, it always excites me to ask, what world am I going to create for this song? What world am I going to create for this record? Where does this need to live? I often go to different worlds from day to day in my head, and I need to go to those places to be creative. It’s not even a choice, I just go there. So it’s amazing that you can go any which way but you have to choose something, and then point all the arrows in that direction and go for it. That’s exciting for me. 

AF: Did you teach yourself with trial and error or go to school for it? 

JD: No, it’s honestly such a sandwiching of having been in so many different studio recording situations over the years now. Learning what I like, engineering style, learning the vocabulary for things, when you hear something in your head and you don’t know how to communicate that, you have to get better at that, so that’s a skill that’s been sharpened. I am obsessed with mixing, different frequencies, all these things that are a part of my creative DNA and makeup, but those things have all been sharpened over the years as I’ve been in different situations.

AF: One of your “impossible weights,” to use your term, is that you’ve had mental health struggles and depression. What’s your perspective on mental illness and the creative process? Is it a necessary part of your art-making or do you reject that notion? 

JD: I don’t think it’s a necessary part, but it informs the process. I think you could be totally healthy with your mental state and still create beautiful art, and you can be unhealthy and still create beautiful art. There are different tools that you can use, like if you choose to lean into the unhealthy. For me, there are tools I had to gather. You can’t totally eliminate anxiety out of your life. It’d be nice, but I definitely think that some stuff fuels a fire if you allow it, at least for me.

Sometimes, we glorify [the idea that] your art is only good if you’re feeling bad and I don’t think that’s true. There is beauty that can come from the ashes and the dirt, but if you lean on it, it can be a pretty unhealthy place. There are consequences, internally and relationally. 

AF: This has been a really hard year. What do you hope this album contributes to the listener’s experience and recollection of 2020? 

JD: When I first set out to make this record was when life was colorless and I was in a bad place and it’s just like, you know what, I want this record to be resplendent. That was word that came to me – full of life, full of color. And the color of it to me is predominantly green. That to me, is an association to being alive. That’s what people need right now. Whether it’s doom scrolling or all this terrible news that is happening, we lose sight that there can be joy and hope and color—it’s getting swallowed up by the bad. It’s okay to feel life and make space for things that are life-giving, even in the midst of tumultuous times. So I hope this record can be a breath of fresh air for people, and allow them to feel what they need to feel. 

Follow Deep Sea Diver on Facebook for ongoing updates.

Seattle’s Good Co Asks Musicians to Quarantine Together for Video Cover Challenge

On a bandstand, it’s not uncommon to leave space for band-members—and special guests—to solo and share their own interpretation of a song live for everyone to enjoy. But, during quarantine, while musicians and audiences are alone in their homes, that delicious sense of collaboration and in-the-moment improvisation can seem impossible to recreate. That’s where Seattle’s joyous, electro-swing band Good Co and their Quarantine Together Challenge come to the rescue.

With the music community feeling collectively glum – the band included – over missed performances, rehearsals and musical fun with their friends, the Seattle based six-piece got inspired to do something innovative to lift everyone’s spirits by creating and video for their original song, entitled “Quarantine.” At the center of the upbeat, relatable number is steamy vocals, funky horns, and a groovin’ rhythm section that could inspire even the most rhythm-deficient to get up and dance. Then, they took it a step further: in collaboration with musician’s financial relief non-profit, Sweet Relief, they’re asking musicians from Seattle and beyond to contribute their video versions of the song.

For this challenge, which Rayburn jests is like the “Ice Bucket Challenge meets celebrity ‘Imagine’ video,” Good Co just asks that contributors do their own thing with the original—replace or change the instrumentation, take a solo, remix it, write a new countermelody—and then share the video on social media with Good Co. tagged and a little blurb about Sweet Relief and its mission. They’ve also set up contributing musicians with everything they may need, like a Drop Box full of sheet music and notes on the song.

Since they began the ongoing project in early August, the band has received well over thirty videos, which include performances from Seattle’s own talents like saxophonist Kate Olson and jazz pianist Shawn Schlogel, as well as musicians from as far away as New Zealand and Hawaii.

“Quarantine” and this video challenge come on the heels of Good Co’s fourth full-length album, So Pretty, which dropped in early June. The high-octane 11-track album is fun and incredibly variable: there’s disco, ukulele swing, euro-pop, even clever nods to American pop favorites like the building trumpet line in Black Eyed Peas,”Pump It,” on “Home.”  It’s the perfect soundtrack to a quarantine night many of us have had—so fed up with being home again, you’re getting dressed up in your sequins, fur and going-out jewelry just to dance around your living room and get back in touch with your night-out sexiness again.

So Pretty also documents Good Co’s current stellar line-up—including bandleader Carey Rayburn on vocals, trumpet, ukulele, synths; Jacob Sele on keys, vocals, percussion, and trombone; Benjamin Verdier on electric and upright bass; Joseph Eck on drums and percussion; Peter Daniel on saxophone; Sasha Nollman and Shannon O’Bent on vocals; as well as Rex Gregory on clarinet and Matt Williams on guitar. Rayburn says he’s enjoyed having some of Seattle’s brightest talent in the band, which has been the case throughout Good Co.’s many iterations since breaking out in 2012.

“Hands down my favorite thing is getting to perform with the other great musicians in the band and to share our music with audiences,” said Rayburn. “To tell the truth, it’s been pretty tough on each of us individually to not be able to play music, but we try to stay engaged. We’ve each been doing our own things to keep sane. Our singer Katrina has been writing new songs, I’ve been practicing a lot of trombone lately, and our band gets together for Zoom meetings just to hang out every couple of weeks.”

The Quarantine Together challenge has been a nice way to stay active, too. Rayburn is absolutely floored with the response to the project so far, which he hopes to continue for as long as people want to submit and raise funds or Sweet Relief.

“The most surprising thing, to me, is how much people have really enjoyed doing the challenge,” said Rayburn. “Several folks have told me that it felt like getting to collaborate with other musicians again, something that I think we all really miss right now.”

To get involved with the Quarantine Together project, visit the fundraiser website. 

PLAYING SEATTLE: Kathy Moore Premieres Apocalyptic Video for “Bad Day’s Coming”

Is it too late fix the things in the world that are broken? That was the question on powerhouse Seattle guitarist Kathy Moore’s mind when she wrote her Super Power trio’s newest single, “Bad Day’s Coming,” and started planning the entrancing music video that accompanies it. To celebrate its release, the Kathy Moore Super Power Trio will be playing a live stream concert from The High Dive on July 31, 2020 at 8pm PST, which you’ll be able to watch live on the High Dive Facebook page.

Moore, who’s been on the Seattle scene for decades now, is well known for her artistry, energy, and incredible technical ability on the guitar—and this new release exhibits all three qualities, with a relatable nod to the turmoil many of us are feeling right now. “Bad Day’s Coming” was inspired largely by global warming, but its dark, grunge-like melody and cynical lyrics feel especially relevant right now as they speak to Moore’s ever-deepening anxiety over the global pandemic. The video, which reveals the sharp, jutting modern dance of Alison Burke dancing outside in black and white and shrouded in visual effects, doubles down on an uneasy, apocalyptic feeling.

“I wrote ‘Bad Day’s Coming’ before the pandemic hit about all of the things happening in the world—and fear of the apocalypse,” says Moore. “[It was partly inspired by] a gig [I did] earlier this year with a spoken word piece to the young people in the audience called, ‘I’m sorry we destroyed your planet.'”

“Bad Day’s Coming” is the second single to be released from Moore’s forthcoming album, I Won’t Let The End of the World Bring Me Down, due out in September. Recorded by Don Gunn, best known for his work with Death Cab for Cutie, the new album features a cast of Seattle greats including Alyssa Martini (Trick Candles, Tobias The Owl),  Faith Stankevich (Grace Love, Marmalade), Tim Kennedy (Happy Orchestra), Sean P. Bates (Halloqueen, Medicine Hat), and Andy Stoller (Heart).

To complement this single from the star-studded new album, Moore commissioned a video from two Seattle-based multidisciplinary artists—Ruby Dunphy, known best for her work in Seattle glam rock band Thunderpussy, and Allison Burke of No Baby—after feeling a kinship with the way both of them approach art-making.

“When I first met Ruby Dunphy I felt like I knew her already. She is a remarkable musician, artist, creator and person,” says Moore. “I asked Allison to  choreograph and edit my video and—if you watch the No Baby video “Breach” you will know why. She performs with wit, from the gut and with great beauty.”

Dunphy and Burke create a gritty, chaotic visual masterpiece that perfectly complements and augments the gloomy intensity of the song—which Moore says may seem uncharacteristic of her everyday persona.

“I am a very happy person and I think the reason I can remain happy is that I am constantly chasing away demons in my songs,” Moore says. “Writing this song was very cathartic.”

And, despite the foreboding, dark nature of the song, Moore has a cautiously hopeful outlook when it comes to the triumph of the human spirit. “I do not know if we pull back away from the edge of the cliff because of human nature,” she says. “Human beings have also overcome great obstacles together with the same human nature.”

Follow the Kathy Moore Super Power Trio on Facebook or check out their website for ongoing updates.

The Debutones Ask Existential Questions with Pandemic-Inspired Single “Lonely Souls”

On a cold, gloomy day in late March, a few weeks into the COVID-19 pandemic, singer Debby Nagusky picked up her guitar for the first time in weeks. She had just read several news articles—one about the shortage of ventilators for sick people, and another about the many families forced to say goodbye to dying loved ones over video chat due to necessary social distancing policies.

“I was just feeling so sad and kind of hopeless at that point. I was thinking, how can this be? How can it be that our country, with all its resources, seems to be falling apart and doesn’t seem to have enough resources to treat the people who need them or may need them?” Nagusky says.

Nagusky is the lead singer of The Debutones, a five-piece Seattle-based group that performs an eclectic mix country, folk, and bluegrass music. Though she’s occasionally written songs since her college days in the 1970s, she’s never self-identified as a songwriter. And yet, once she picked up her guitar that day, the first line of “Lonely Souls” (“How do you grieve from far away?”) just came to her. From there, Nagusky says the rest just oozed out.

“I feel like I was a vehicle for the song. It was done in 20 minutes,” she said. “I was like, what just happened here?”

Along with responding to the news headlines she’d seen, Nagusky says the song is also influenced by how she felt when she learned about a choir in Washington state that had gotten together to rehearse shortly before the stay-home order was issued. Forty-five of the sixty-person choir was infected with COVID, and two members ended up dying. Nagusky, who says her love of music is fueled by sharing it—in person—with others, was deeply impacted by this news.

“Something as seemingly joyous and enjoyable as singing with a choir—how can that kill you? We’ve never heard of anything like that before,” she says.

As a result, “Lonely Souls” is a melancholic, contemplative folk tune, particularly relevant to the times we are all facing right now. In fact, the song directly acknowledges so many of the hard, existential questions the pandemic is asking of humanity: “Who gets to live, and who must die?/ Who must decide the reason why?/ Why must they choose for us all?”

Still, Nagusky says the last thing she wants to do is deepen anyone’s pain with “Lonely Souls.” Instead, she was looking to create an outlet for her grief and hopefully for other people’s pain, as well.

“In our society, sadness is kind of pushed under the rug — we’re always supposed to be happy. This is not a happy time. I don’t think it’s a bad thing to feel sad. I hope [the song] allows people to feel,” she said. “We’re all hurting.”

To learn more about The Debutones, visit their website.

PLAYING SEATTLE: Cellist and Activist Ebony Miranda Talks Resistance and Allyship Through Music

According to a 2014 study by the League of American Orchestras, less than 2% of musicians in American orchestras are African American, only 4.3% of conductors are black, and composers remain predominantly white as well. Hence, as a classically-trained cellist and person of color (POC), Ebony Miranda’s music career is in itself an act of resistance.

The classical tradition has resisted the influence of black music and perpetuated white supremacy for hundreds of years, and as one of Cornish College of the Art’s only students of color in the classical program, Miranda fought for more diversity in curricula, the student body and staff until their graduation in 2017.  Years later, Miranda has also become a vocal organizer within Seattle’s official Black Lives Matter chapter, and their free improvisational solo project on electric cello, Undesirable Body, continues to explore and amplify the effects of racial oppression and the injustices faced by African Americans every day.

Ebony Miranda took some time away from supporting Seattle protesters on the front lines to speak with Playing Seattle about how music can be used as a tool in the fight against racism, their thoughts on the music industry’s blackout on Tuesday, and how allies in the music industry can step up to better support musicians of color in Seattle and beyond.

AF: Tell me about your background and how you go into music. Are you from Seattle? 

EM: No, actually, I’m originally from Southern California. I moved up to Seattle seven years ago to attend Cornish. I started playing cello down there, went to a music/arts high school and decided to pursue music for school. I came to Cornish seven years ago, graduated with my degree in music, specifically classical music.

While I was studying classical music I had opportunities to do jazz band and that’s when I got more involved in free improv, in particular. Which is sort of what really set the stage for the music I do now. I never thought I’d be doing any type of improvised music but now it’s almost exclusively what I do and my solo project Undesirable Body is exclusively improv-based. 

AF: And you decided to stay in Seattle. Did you feel you had enough of a community here? What prompted you to stay? 

EM: Definitely, from a music point of view, yes. I was able to develop a lot of really great connections at my time at Cornish, especially in the improv scene, and really able to connect with a lot of different people, especially with those associated with Cafe Racer and greater than that, [the label] Table & Chairs. So I’ve been able to be part of some really cool things like play in the Seattle Improvised Music Festival and host a few sessions as well. The improv community here, to me, has always been a positive environment and has been a really nurturing space for me to develop and explore new ideas. 

AF: What are some of your artistic inspirations? 

EM: I will start with some music influences – I mean coming from a classical background, yes, there are a few composers that stick out. Being a cellist, Bach is a huge influence to me especially in terms of like how I think about improv, and I’m a really big fan of using double stops and I think about intervals pretty much constantly when creating my music. Having learned a good amount of the suites there’s a lot of double stop work in there and a lot of chord work. I think that has, one, made my left hand very strong because I really like to push all the limits, try to get all the weird stretched out chords as I can. Bach is definitely an influence, and I’m sure all cellists would say that, just that kind of style of thick chords and things like that. Also, when I was younger, Shostakovich was a great – his concept of melody. He was someone who lived in extremely dark times, under Stalin and horrible government, and was experiencing great pressure in his life and oppression. You can really hear that in his music, so from an emotional standpoint he always stuck out to me. 

Sun Ra was a really great musical inspiration for me as well. My music may not be fully reflective of that – as a person and advocate for Black people in music. His love for our community. I’ve also sampled some of his work in some of my pieces as well. And really, a lot of what I’m putting into my music, the energy I’m putting behind it, is usually influenced – it isn’t even always necessarily events in my life, but just whatever I’m feeling in that moment. The overall feelings, my lived experience, if that makes sense. 

AF: Once, when I saw you perform, you talked about the tortured relationship you’ve had with the cello. At the time, you talked about how a lot of your music has come out of a desire to untangle cello from the history of white supremacy in classical music. Could you talk a little bit more about that?  

EM: So, at that time I had such a complicated relationship with my alma mater, to put it frankly. I had a complicated experience being one of the only black people in my department and knowing there was already a huge lack of representation there and just trying to find my place in the music world. I was really grappling with those feelings and trying to separate myself from the academia side of things and for myself realized what playing cello and music is about. From an early age I knew I was never going to be, you know, in the concert hall as a soloist, but I also knew I loved playing and for some reason people enjoyed hearing me play, so I think I was just trying to discover what was out there and possible for me as a musician. 

Over the past few years I’ve gotten more experience, which alone has helped. I also switched to an electric cello and that did a lot for me to expand my sound. Also, [the electric cello] had the potential to be a lot louder, which was something new for me as well. That really opened some doors to explore my instrument, because I was literally playing on a new instrument.  I [still do] some gigs where I play classical music or classical adjacent music or chamber music, things like that, but I don’t feel that burden anymore, that complicated relationship. I think I’ve been able to find what I enjoy most and really run with it. So when I do go back it’s like visiting an old friend – not to sound too corny. I am able to approach that style of music on my own terms now. 

AF: Can you talk about being one of the only POC at Cornish College of the Arts? 

EM: It’s not just the music department – I think in general a lot of POC students at Cornish struggle to find representation not only within Cornish as an institution but also in the curriculum being studied. I think there was a general dissatisfaction with the lack of diversity in the material we were given. I actually formed a People of Color Union at Cornish, a POC Union to help group us together and discuss what the discrepancies were within our departments and within Cornish as a whole. To put it simply, it was just trying to challenge either certain policies that the school had instated, or encourage diversity in curriculum and staff as well. One of our biggest achievements was being able to get a therapist of color on campus, which was a huge thing for us. A lot of universities and colleges, any sort of institution—they could always use a little… input. 

AF: You’ve talked about using music to transform and heal. How do you think music can be used as a tool to fight what’s going on in the world right now in terms of racism and unrest? 

EM: I feel like this can go so many ways. There’s the literal application of putting your personal political beliefs within music. Either through words, or making it a concept, really stamping on, like, ‘this is my statement.’ Literally using the music to fight back or to encourage change. But I think there are other avenues as well, and part of that is representation. Even if the people on stage may not be giving a political performance, it’s also very encouraging to see people that look like you or who are in your community expressing themselves as well. Someone like me, I make strictly instrumental music for the most part but I still get told that the energy I have behind my music, the values I have as a person are very prevalent. I feel just as much whether you have a verbal effect, you also have an emotional effect as well.

Even if it’s for the purpose of just bringing people together. For example, I hosted a fundraiser a couple years ago when all of the protests were happening at the detention centers. I hosted a fundraiser for Northwest Immigrants Rights Project for when the movement of families belong together was happening. But yeah, I hosted, I performed along with two of my friends and it was great. We definitely had some good messages in between. We had a wonderful host that reminded everyone why they were there. But at the end of the day we didn’t necessarily have anything to do with immigrant rights or detention centers but it was just having music there in that space, that energy present really made an impact for folks. 

AF: When did you start considering yourself an activist and getting more involved? 

EM: I mainly started getting involved in things when I was around 19 or 20 – really the Black Lives Matter movement as a whole got me more politically involved in things. I remember I hosted a silent protest once, just me and one other person. That was the first time I did a political action, if you will. And I also participated in a lot of the protests that were happening in 2015. That must have been the officer who killed Mike Brown – that was a big, especially here in Seattle. There was a really big explosive impact and was kind of the start of BLM activity in Seattle. That was when the original chapter was started. So I started getting more involved that way and participated in some protests. There I mainly focused on ways I could act within Cornish since that was the context of most of my life – that’s when I created the POC Union and we put together a yearly show for people of color there and that was really great, and I was in a lot of meetings with administration really trying to push for change there. At my last year at Cornish in 2017, I was an organizer for the Women’s March on Seattle, the first one. For me personally it was a big mess, but it made me learn a lot about grassroots organizing, what I like and didn’t like about it, and got me back into getting more involved in the political scene, since I was finishing school at the time.

At the end of 2017, myself and two other individuals founded Black Lives Matter Seattle – King County as the original chapter had been long gone and dissolved by then. Myself and two others founded that at the end of 2017, and we created our board, got incorporated and got all the official business out of the way. We do go by BLM-Seattle too, for short, but in our mission we incorporate all of King County.

AF: I saw you posted on Facebook about protests – I’ve heard that the BLM activists weren’t involved in a lot of the Seattle protests over the weekend, is that true? 

EM: It’s about half and half. It’s been hard to decipher information, but essentially there was one protest – well, let’s back up. There was a protest happening on Friday that was organized by local anarchist and leftist groups. There was a demonstration on Saturday at noon that was being put on by a white ally [who] brought in some people from the King County NAACP [to speak]. And then there was another one that happened later that day that was hosted by a black organization called Not This Time, and they’re most known for putting on the campaign to get I-940 passed, that’s what they’re connected with. And then there’s another demonstration happening on June 14th, that claims to be the original BLM “chapter,” but it is an individual who was involved in those movements back then. He essentially hosts the majority of any protest that we’ve seen with Black Lives Matter. You know how they have the Black Lives Matter Friday and things like that? He is hosted those events. He’s an individual, not a chapter. There’s a lot of confusion. 

AF: It is really confusing. It all gets muddled on social media too. Can you tell me how the George Floyd protests have affected you, and have you been involved in any of them through BLM or individually? Can you clarify your BLM chapter’s stance on protesting during the pandemic? 

EM: It was a pretty tough decision – a lot of events were popping up this past weekend, and as we’ve seen continuing throughout the week, so as an organization our board is not currently hosting any in-person protests for a couple reasons, the main reason being we’re still in the pandemic, COVID-19 is still extremely vicious and prominent within black and brown communities, and as an organization we figured it would not be best to encourage our community to go out and protest. We are a thousand percent behind those who do feel the need to demonstrate and we’re not going to tell people not to protest because we fully understand why people do, but if they’re feeling on the fence about it, we want people to know we are understanding of the fact that we are still in a pandemic. We do care about our community first. In lieu of that, we have mainly been working behind the scenes to provide support for those who are deciding to protest. So, we have created our bail fund which got fully funded, and which I am extremely excited about. We created a protester safety guide that is on our website. It has COVID safety information as well as a lot of different resources for folks that are going to be out there. And then, with the bail fund we are also working on helping bail out protesters who are getting arrested. That’s all happening right now. 

It’s such a weird juxtaposition  of feelings — there’s so much crisis happening, I’m emotionally exhausted and there’s so much grief happening, but at the same time it has been extremely encouraging to see how much community support we’ve been getting. Our [local] chapter has not gotten this type of attention ever really and we’ve been around almost two years and have been doing a lot of really great work. It’s been really incredible seeing people come out to support us and support the work we do [and] we’re still with our community and still want to support people in any way we can. 

AF: What can the music community do to support BLM and more broadly, POC musicians? 

EM: I have a lot of different thoughts pop up. I think a really great example is the Seattle Symphony hosting a march, which I was really shocked at! I thought it was really cool. It goes back to my personal experience – there’s still a lot of racism and sexism within music community, especially in the classical music community, and there’s always so many talks about how we create diversity within classical music, whether it be on stage or in the concert hall. How do we do outreach, how do we make this music accessible to people? Performances are going to be on hold for a long time so this is the perfect time to really strategize on how we can make classical music in particular more accessible to marginalized communities, whether it be in education, or performance, or just accessibility to hearing that kind of music. A lot of symphonies and organizations and music unions and educators should be thinking about those things. It’s really reflective of the amount of time that I’ve been criticized because I couldn’t afford lessons, because my mom was working two jobs so I could go to my arts high school. Lack of resources [is something] a lot of young Black and POC kids experience when trying to pursue a field that’s incredibly expensive. I think this is the perfect time to think about that.

In terms of the greater music scene, especially when we’re all starting to really feel the effects of COVID-19 in terms of our work, supporting Black and POC musicians, making sure their music is getting played and they’re getting the support they deserve. Again, it just comes back to that – even in mainstream festivals, there’s still a big lack of diversity. So again, how do you make sure you’re curating your venues to really be diverse – not to just tokenize, but truly be diverse. What audiences are you really advertising towards? Who’s your audience and why? What crowds do you want in your establishment? There’s still gatekeeping in that sense. I can very much tell if the space has me in mind or not, whether I’m playing at a venue or attending one. 

AF: Speaking of taking advantage of the pause, what do you think about #theshowmustbepaused social media campaign? 

EM: It turned into a giant mess. I didn’t even actually know that it was started by the music community. I think people very quickly realized how damaging it could be to fill up a very relevant hashtag with a bunch of blank images. I think people understood the harm that has caused, but to the original purpose of it, what it was meant to be, it wasn’t anyone’s fault that it got misconstrued. That’s just how social media works at times. From what I remember from reading, it was a way for the music community not to promote anything and really pause everything to honor POC.

My personal feelings on actions like that, while I think the visual and yes the more performative aspect of those types of actions can have a lot of impact on people, for someone like myself who’s been doing this work and been involved in this type of environment for a long time, concrete action and consistent concrete action is always the most impactful. I always tell people, any action you do, you can do one really big action but it may not be as worthwhile as even like a smaller but very consistent action. As we always say it’s not a sprint, it’s a marathon. In two weeks, Black people are still unfortunately at high risk of getting killed by police in this country. These record companies want to take a stand – that’s great, but again, you really need to apply that in all elements of your company. Who you’re signing, payment of your artists, the money they’re able to make from you and feel supported and feel represented as well. 

Stay tuned to Ebony Miranda’s website for ongoing updates and new music.

PREMIERE: Heather Thomas is “Waitin’ on the Times to Change” While Quarantined in Austin

Seattle-based drummer and singer-songwriter Heather Thomas had grand plans for 2020. After releasing her sophomore EP Open Up last year, Thomas hit the road, planning a nearly year-long journey with the intention of spending each month in a different city, exploring different music scenes and connecting with creatives all over the country. The ambitious plan put her in Los Angeles, then the San Francisco Bay Area, and then Austin just before SXSW – and that’s where she was when news of the pandemic hit hard, with the announcement that SXSW was cancelled.

“The town went from buzzing with anticipation for the busiest time of year, to a ghost town within a matter of days,” says Thomas.

The rapid closures of businesses and restrictions placed on social gathering thwarted plans Thomas had to “play as much music as possible” and connect with new people. Fortunately, a generous friend (and Austin bandmate) was able to provide a place to stay in the weeks that followed the shutdowns, so she was able to “shelter in place” safely while spending the next six weeks fully isolated.

“Isolation is an interesting reality, and it affects everyone differently, although anyone experiencing it will undoubtedly share some common feelings and emotions,” says Thomas. “If you were following along on social media, people were struggling with disrupted sleep patterns, worries about income loss, anxiety over ‘what to do next,’ and loneliness, along with many other shared feelings.”

One particular day, she finally found herself awake in the early morning—the best time of day to sit on the front porch and catch the warm Texas sun rising while the birds, bugs, and lizards went on with their lives, untouched by the fears of a global pandemic.

“I was inside on the couch when I sang to myself ‘I’m just sittin’ in the living room waitin’ on the times to change’ and I felt like I was probably feeling something that so many other people were feeling,” she recalls. “There wasn’t much we could do to fix things. There was just this feeling of helplessness coupled with the reality that we’d have to figure out a way through.”

The final song, as Thomas anticipated, resonates far beyond the walls of her cozy Texas home away from home. And the simple performance in the video—filmed alone in a bedroom in Austin, Texas on an Osmo Pocket camera, with Thomas sitting on her yellow bedspread, singing her heart out—augments the intimacy of her isolation confessions as well as her incredible vocal strength and acuity. It’s a real anthem for the times, and a song that reminds us that we can still find a sense of peace and togetherness through music.

Thomas was able to get aback on the road recently and is currently in Albuquerque on a shared property. From there, Thomas plans to try and get back to her mission of exploring as many music scenes as possible this year – safely, of course.

“I intended to get out of my comfort zone and learn and adapt, so this is me learning and adapting. I don’t know what the upcoming months will look like, and for the time being I’m not trying to make plans too far ahead,” she says. “But I’ll have to keep moving on. It’s a new challenge, as I can no longer move from place to place, staying with friends for a few days at a time. I have to adjust my timeline and housing needs based on new safety precautions. But there’s no one way to exist in this time, and everyone has to find for themselves what feels right and how they feel the most safe.”

Follow Heather Thomas on Facebook for ongoing updates.

PREMIERE: Killer Workout Draws on Love of Campy Horror for “Figure it Out” Video

Photo Credit: Brady Harvey

About three years ago, Adrienne Clark and Anthony Darnell, bandmates in Seattle new wave dance pop group Killer Workout, replied to an ad from a man who had bought out the stock of a closed-down video store. Interest piqued, they rolled up to find a garage full of thousands of their favorite horror and sci-fi VHS tapes.

“The guy told us we had to take everything, but I didn’t realize how many VHS he actually had. He had a giant garage—well over two thousand VHS tapes—but we were in a 1998 Corolla, so he gave us 30 minutes to go through and grab as many as we could,” remembers Darnell.

This was the beginning of Clark and Darnell’s collection of campy horror, sci-fi, and action VHS, a passion and aesthetic which has spilled over into their music as Killer Workout—from the band’s namesake to their forthcoming 3-song EP, Four : Three, which references the 4:3 aspect ratio common in ‘80s and ‘90s VHS tapes and television. “The name Four : Three doesn’t tell you too much, but it gives you a clue of who we are. Like, we’re sitting in a room right now with a hundred VHS tapes of horror movies. We’re kind of obsessed,” says Clark, laughing. “We’re big cinephiles and whenever we’re collaborating, we reference films and visual art that could inspire the work.”

This inspiration is clear in video for the song “Figure it Out,” premiering today. It’s one of three music videos the band commissioned from @video_macabro, a popular Instagram personality who cuts up and collages obscure VHS movies and posts it with interesting music. “He’ll take some weird Japanese robot movie that you’ve never heard of and put dark dance music to it,” said Darnell. “It just really resonated with me, so we asked him to do all three videos.”

For “Figure it Out,” the director spliced together scenes from 1979 film The Driller Killer, a slasher flick about an artist who’s driven into insanity and begins killing people with a power drill. The effect is undeniably perfect for the song – the unison eighth-note bass and drum patterns have ’80s vibes, but with a twist unique to the band, which includes guitarist Reed Griffin, bassist/vocalist Jon Swihart, and drummer Bob Husak (who also collects and sells vintage vinyl, books and tapes).

“With some of the newer stuff we’ve been trying to play with structure,” said Darnell. “I thought, we’re stuck in a rut of emulating this [post-punk] sound, why don’t we try and play with some of these elements—make it darker than it typically would be, more haunting.” The EP arrives June 26 – they’ve already released its first single, “Too Late.”

On “Figure it Out,” Clark’s otherworldly keyboard line connects the straight-ahead post-punk vocals to some far-out dimension, while the heavy, reverb-y guitar conjures up a horror movie score – as they say, “Tangerine Dream-style.” Lyrically, this song began as a way to process Donald Trump’s election. Over time, Darnell says its morphed into more of a reflection on the balance between fitting in and standing out, which, against the backdrop of a misfit impaling someone with his drill, adds a layer of deliciously dark humor, a la Talking Heads’ “Psycho Killer.”

“It’s a song about realizing everyone is a big nerd like you are, so what does it matter [if you fit in or not]?” said Darnell. “I mean, I’m into weird horror movies and sci-fi stuff that a lot of people think is weird or too obscure.  But everyone has these fears and anxieties. So ‘Figure it Out’ has a hopeful message against a dark backdrop.”

Follow Killer Workout on Facebook for ongoing updates.

Hollis Does Brunch Series Combines Music and Food to Help Those Affected by COVID Shutdowns

Photo Credit: Janae Jones

When talking to musician Hollis Wong-Wear, it feels as though she has all the time in the world for you. This is indicative of the enjoyment she gains from meeting people and creating connections. “I am a very passionate host and I love bringing people together and cultivating a cool vibe,” she says as we chat over the phone. “My sense of self as an artist is inseparable from the community.”

Beginning her music career as one third of the band The Flavr Blue, writing music for other musicians and her band, it wasn’t until recently that she felt ready to create her own collection of work. “I had become this master facilitator. When I work with other people I can take on the responsibility of doing something as a joint venture to motivate me,” the singer-songwriter explains, adding that when it came to creating with her own voice and story it felt akin to an uphill battle. ”It goes back to that insecurity of ‘Why does my voice matter?’”

Her anxiety is more than relatable; in a social media-saturated world, anyone and everyone is clambering to have that big break in their career, whether they’re an artist, musician or writer. Knowing she was more comfortable collaborating and building community, Hollis used those skills to her advantage. She created her unique Hollis Does Brunch series, which takes place in a number of cities across the U.S., and acted as a Trojan Horse to get her used to performing her own music and telling her story. She released her debut solo EP half-life last February. A deluxe version of the EP arrives May 22nd, with two music videos to celebrate – live recordings of her singles “Sedative” and “Back To Me.”

Organizing food-related events was an organic step – growing up in her mom’s Chinese restaurant in the suburbs of San Francisco made Hollis a moth to a flame when it comes to good meals and community spirit. “I think food is kind of like the first art form that I really, truly understood… the idea of gathering people around music and food was a concept that, for me, was a natural connection,” she says. “My end of goal of why I create anything is to bring people together in a meaningful way and forge connections. When we did the [last in-person] Hollis Does Brunch session in Seattle, people brought their kids, their parents and their friends. It was fun and inclusive – people were drinking cocktails and feeding their kids! I want these sessions to feel good and welcome for all.”

When the current pandemic hit the States, it became clear that our lives would change drastically, and that necessary social distancing measures would protect lives. With this in mind, Hollis decided to move her brunch sessions online, creating weekly live-streams and raising money (and perhaps most importantly, awareness) for those most severely affected by the situation. She admits she had some personal motivations, too. “I love hosting and the worst thing for somebody who loves to host is not being able to have any people over to their house! So I thought: how I could scratch my ‘self-care’ itch? How can I extend that in a digital space?” she says. “If I can be a resource to others, that’s a privilege. I’m happy to get into the weeds with live-streaming because it provides that. I wanted the sessions to be about community – less ‘oh they watch me perform!’ and more about bringing in the insights of other folks. My heart hurts so deeply for all of the restaurants that have closed and laid off employees.” By organizing these sessions, Hollis hopes to provide a degree of nourishment both mentally and physically. It’s a symbiotic relationship as it brings Hollis herself a degree of commitment and structure.

Bars, restaurants, diners and cafes all played vital roles in how we lived before the pandemic. They were places of refuge and relaxation; after a busy day we flocked to them with friends, eager to shed our everyday stresses. For students and freelancers, cafes were the perfect hideaway when unable to focus at home. They housed our small ensembles to large gatherings; we shared birthdays, holidays and celebrations there, and in some cultures, wakes to remember lost loved ones. Yet they’ve endured some of the worst effects of the pandemic, the results of which has left many owners wondering if their small businesses will survive, and how they’ll pay workers who relied on tips.

These online brunch sessions raise funds for those groups especially in need during this time, such as Feeding America and the NYC UndocuWorkers Fund. Each organization is close to the heart of one of her guests joining that week; Hollis allows them to explain how they’re affected and why it’s important to extend a hand, as it were, and help lift up their chosen cause.

“One of the live-streams I did was fundraising for undocumented workers in New York City who were laid off, and then it was also fundraising for the restaurant of the chefs that I had on that day,” Hollis says. “After that I used the next session to raise money for two artist organizations in Seattle that are doing a Seattle artist relief fund, and they’ve actually already raised $200,000 and are trying to raise another $700,000 more because of the demonstrated need.”

In fact, many of the people Hollis invites have already begun their own fundraising, and the series helps garner even greater attention. “One of the chefs [Erik Bruner-Yang] that came on is doing The Power of 10 initiative, trying to raise $10,000 to hire 10 employees who will make 1,000 meals for people in the DC area. They’re trying to make that a pilot program,” Hollis says.

Like many who are working to support their local community, Hollis volunteers her time and it’s a testament to her hard work that many groups have received much-needed support in a time where it feels as though there is none. Her live-stream series “is really about giving – I’m not taking in money. The only thing I’m doing is starting a Patreon page, which I did feel conflicted about. But after looking at my expenses I realized I might need to!”

When asked how people can get involved, she stressed that there is no prescribed way to do so, and that simply being present for the brunch is enough. “I just hope that what I’m creating provides solace and support to this moment,” she says.

Follow Hollis on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook for ongoing updates.

PREMIERE: Bloods “Girls Are Just Fucking Cool Like That”

Photo Credit: Lisa Businovski

Marihuzka Cornelius, aka MC, grew up in what many consider a rough part of Western Sydney, Australia. In the ’90s, you could find her dressed in regulation plaid, with Nirvana on blast in the background. It was her neighborhood’s diverse immigrant population, however, and her own modest upbringing that inspired the subject matter she still tackles today: racism, sexism, ageism, classism.

“It gave me a very grounded perspective on life in general and different people’s life experience,” MC said on a Skype call earlier this month. “It’s a blessing. I think when you’ve grown up that way, not necessarily in a picturesque, white-picket-fence situation, with lots of disposable income, your parents living week-to-week, that can feel really heavy on you when you’re a kid and you just want to live like they do in the movies. But I think when you’re an adult, having lived that, it just makes you have so much more patience and perspective. That lived experience I think is invaluable. Having a bit of struggle in your life, it ends up being a huge part of who you become as an adult.”

At the tender age of eight, MC picked up the bass. In high school, she played in a variety of garage bands, always as a bass player. The urge to sing was something she fought against (in spite of recording herself singing Madonna into her parent’s dictaphone as a kid). Even after she began to sing, bass remained the foundation of her music, with bass lines written first, lyrics second.

The original Bloods original lineup included Victoria “Sweetie” Zamora (vocals/bass), Dirk Jonker (drums) and Marihuzka (lead vocals/guitar). When they first started in 2011, no one knew how to play their instruments. “I hadn’t played guitar really before. Sweetie was a violinist, so she’d never really played bass. Dirk was a guitarist, so he’d never played drums,” MC remembers. “We deliberately started the band [saying] ‘Let’s just learn to play and write these songs and see how we go.'” The name was supposed to convey a bit of danger, as well as the connection the three shared.

Two years ago, Sweetie fell in love and moved to Melbourne. The band was in the middle of recording their 2018 LP Feelings, and after a schedule-conflict heavy tour, they parted ways. Jonker’s good friend Mike Morgan had been brought on as a producer during the recording process and subsequently joined the band. When he joined, MC didn’t mince words – she let him know up front what the terms of the deal would be. “In the tradition of Bloods, you have to play bass because that’s not your instrument. If you’re gonna be in the band, you’re gonna get out of your comfort zone,” she said.

Bloods’ new EP Seattle is the first for MC, Jonker, and Morgan as a trio. The EP marks the fulfillment of MC’s childhood dreams, as they recorded it at Jack Endino’s Soundhouse in Seattle, worked with audio engineer Steve Fisk (Soundgarden, Mudhoney) on production and mixing, and even got to use an amp Kurt Cobain played through. MC writes the songs, then takes them to the band to work out the parts. “Girls Are Just Fucking Cool Like That” is the third single off the EP and like all of Bloods’ discography: it fucking rocks.

“Well I had a baby, and I’m not dead, no matter what you say/Yeah she is amazing, but it’s okay, I’ve still got dreams inside my head,” the song opens, with MC’s voice happily belting over a steady drumbeat. MC wrote the song about and to her daughter; it’s a message of humor and hope, set against a lively, girl-band vibe. The video is an ode to the magazines and culture of the ’90s chick-flick aesthetic. MC has no qualms about loving those films, while also pointing out the lack of brown and black women within them. It’s the kind of nod the band is known for, an f-u sort of wink. There’s a casualness that’s refreshing within the lyrics: Women rock. There’s no need to argue or defend the gender. They just do.

“I think we have so many songs about how fucked up our situation is as women,” MC explained. “And all the shit: Fuck that guy, this is so hard. Those songs are so important because the struggle is real, everyone feels it. But I wanted to take an approach of writing a song about our resilience and how fucking cool that is. Iff you’re an older artist, if you’re a woman of color, if you have a disability, or if you’re a mother… all those things are seen as impairments and road blocks. And every day women get up and prove that they’re fucking not. I wanted to capture that positivity, instead of talk about what we can’t do, about how we actually do it. We do it time and time again.”

MC’s activism extends beyond her writing and even into band’s profits. Bloods joined the Share It Music label in 2018; the 501(c)(3) non-profit splits album sales between the artists, a charity of their choice, and the label. Bloods chose the Australian-based Indigenous Literacy Foundation, an organization that not only helps get books into the hands of remote Indigenous communities, but also helps those same communities write down and share their stories.

When asked what advice she has for young artists just starting out, MC didn’t hesitate: “Don’t fucking rush it. Don’t upload every song you write. Take time to figure out who you are and what your sound is and don’t fake it. It sounds so cheesy, but the only way to cut through is to be authentically you.”

Follow Bloods on Facebook for ongoing updates. 

Tobias the Owl Explores Isolation and Healing on “Visalia”

What do you hear in your head when the world goes silent?

This was the question Elijah Dhavvan of Seattle band Tobias the Owl set out to answer with his third full-length album Visalia. The question was originally posed in reference to a period in Dhavvan’s past when he felt significantly isolated, but since the release of the album in early April, it has found broader resonance in the time of COVID. In fact, Visalia is Tobias the Owl’s first album to break the College Radio Chart Top 100, even in spite of the fact the band cancelled their March tour due to the pandemic.

“I think people [are getting] the message of isolation. People are sitting at home or they’re travelling through a world that is 20% of what it once was. So, when the world gets this quiet, what do you hear when you’re listening to yourself? What becomes of it? This is when the voices inside your own head are really the loudest,” said Dhavvan.

Dhavvan would know.

At age 15, Dhavvan’s world went silent when left his strict, religious home. His mind was full of the trauma he’d experienced as a kid and the only way he could think to process it all was by hitchhiking back and forth between Houston and L.A. for four straight years. As Dhavvan put it, he was a financial “basket case,” doing day labor where he could and just barely scraping by. Then, at 19, he reached Visalia, CA—an agricultural town in the San Joaquin Valley and the new album’s namesake—and decided to make a change.

“I just looked around and I was like, ‘Okay, this journey is over, I need to put this aside and try and be something else. I don’t want to be homeless forever,'” said Dhavvan.

Dhavvan is now a doctor and the principal member of Tobias the Owl. From the outside, it may appear that he’s healed and moved on from the wounds of his tumultuous adolescence. But, when a friend recently asked Dhavvan to contribute some songs to a compilation he was crafting for homeless youth, Dhavvan realized those demons were still there beneath the surface and maybe, always would be.

“I wrote like 30 songs [for the compilation] and they were all terrible,” said Dhavvan. “I realized that I had taken this big black magic marker and redacted several lines of my own personal history. It was stuff I hadn’t faced, and I was tapping into it for the compilation but in a way that wasn’t honest or truthful to what I’d actually gone through.”

In the end,  Dhavvan realized that Visalia, CA, his point of no return—needed returning to. He then made the decision to make this album, and to make it completely by himself.

“When people said they wanted to do this record with me, I said, I think I need to do this alone. I need to face down some demons,” said Dhavvan.

Dhavvan recorded the entire album—down to every instrumental part—in an 8 foot by 4 foot closet in his downtown Seattle loft.  This is a significant departure from previous, community-oriented releases, like 2018’s A Safe Harbor for Wayward Echoes, which featured appearances by Ben Harper, Laura Veirs and Inara George, violin/violist Andrew Joslyn (Macklemore, David Bazan), and percussionist Scott Seiver (Aimee Mann, Tenacious D).

In this way, Visalia is an album about isolation and pain, but also about the courage and gentleness it takes to meet yourself where you are. On songs like “Sheets to the Wind,”  you can really feel the pain and self-acceptance. The harmonic structure moves between minor and major qualities, while Dhavvan’s voice rises above it all, both triumphant and trepidatious. There’s a similar stinging below the surface on “All My Love,” in which Dhavvan looks to the horizon for answers and peace, comes up empty-handed, then instead decides to look inside himself.

“I haven’t healed, and that’s okay. Just saying that is important,” said Dhavvan. “You’re walking through a desert pursuing an oasis, and at some point you [realize] this is just an oasis I’m moving towards—it’s not the lush greenery and water. But, you keep walking anyways.”

Overall, Visalia is an encapsulation of what healing from pain can look like—imperfect, incomplete, incomprehensible. But instead of self-judgement, there’s a real gentleness about the Visalia, reminding listeners that it’s okay to be wherever they are in their process. And, at a time like this, there’s really no better reminder.

Follow Tobias the Owl on Facebook for ongoing updates.

PLAYING SEATTLE: Tomo Nakayama Finds Rebirth in Dream Pop with “Melonday”

For more than a decade, songwriter Tomo Nakayama has been a staple of the Seattle music scene—first as leader of the eight-piece chamber pop group Grand Hallway, and more recently as a solo artist known for his tender and nuanced indie folk.

But, after a prolonged period of feeling uninspired over the last couple years, Nakayama decided it was time he shake things up a bit for himself and his listeners. The result is the the newly-released, revelatory pop album, Melonday, his first collaboration with childhood friend Yuuki Matthews of The Shins, and a significant stylistic pivot for Nakayama, emphasizing simmering synth loops and a glossy dream-pop vibe a la Beach House, Matt & Kim, and Wild Nothing.

Beyond achieving a different sonic quality than albums past, the 8-track Melonday has an undeniable sense of  renewal and celebration about it—as Nakayama rediscovers inspiration, emotional truth, spontaneity and lightness through the songwriting process. By sheer coincidence of timing, this also lends Melonday a tremendous resonance and the ability to uplift a shaken world during the current pandemic.

In short, Melonday comes just in time.

Nakayama took some time to speak with Audiofemme about the personal impact of his new sonic direction, his childhood friendship with Yuuki Matthews, and the unexpected gift of releasing this album during the pandemic.

AF: The new album is definitely a diversion from the pared-down folk songwriting you typically do, and I’m wondering what inspired you to go a new direction? 

TN: I think ever since I stopped playing and touring with Grand Hallway, which was a big eight-piece band, I’ve been scaling things down musically and focusing on becoming a better solo performer. But at a certain point that approach peaked, and I could feel myself becoming complacent and uninspired. At the same time I was listening to a lot of pop music for my side job scoring music for TV and commercials, and while I loved a lot of the production and textures I was hearing, I noticed a lot of modern songwriting leaning more and more on linear, loop based structures that have no discernible hook or personality, which was very different from the new wave/dance pop music I loved growing up. So I wanted to take what I learned over the years as a songwriter and apply it to this genre, to see what I could add to the conversation and make it more interesting.

AF: I read that you were feeling a creative block. Do you remember the moment you finally felt “unblocked”? Can you describe it and where you were in the making of the new album?

TN: It was when I decided to put vocals over the instrumental for “Get to Know You,” which is the first song on the album and the first song we recorded. I improvised the melody and the words on the spot, and the whole thing more or less kind of tumbled out in one take. I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d made or what I was going to do with it, but I just knew that I really liked listening to it. So we kept going from there.

AF: Once you figured out your new direction, did you have some artists you were using as key inspirations to this new sound?

TN: Honestly, I didn’t really have a specific sound or artist in mind. I think my brain just kind of categorizes anything with a synth and drum machine as “pop,” so I was just accessing the general feeling that that music evokes in my head. Like, the feeling of singing karaoke with my friends, how the melody and structure just flows so joyfully and effortlessly. And all my favorite pop singers tend to be women – Robyn, Björk, Taylor Swift, Whitney Houston, Cyndi Lauper – so lyrically, I found myself approaching it from a more feminine perspective, more emotionally expressive and more willing to be vulnerable, maybe. 

AF: Tell me about your relationship with Yuuki Matthews. How did you meet and what did he bring to this new album that was vital to the final product?

TN: I’ve known Yuuki for years. We actually went to the same middle school together and grew up going to the same all ages punk shows on the east side. I’d followed his work closely, playing with Pedro the Lion and Sufjan Stevens, to his current gig playing and producing The Shins, but we’d never collaborated until he helped me mix my first solo album Fog on the Lens. We really hit it off right away, I think because we’re both self-taught, have similar backgrounds being Asian American suburban kids playing indie rock, and we have a similar DIY approach to recording and writing. He’d also been working closely with Richard Swift during this time in their project Teardrops, so I feel like a lot of his intuitive production techniques and anything goes approach to music rubbed off on our project by osmosis. Yuuki helped me shape these songs and really level it up to a whole new realm. He really encouraged me to keep working on this thing, not just as a genre experiment or songwriting exercise but to embrace it fully and make it part of my musical identity. On a deeper level the recording process was also kind of a therapy for both of us because we were both going through intense experiences of grief and loss. Each day we’d work for a few hours and then go get lunch and talk about our families and friends and being a musician and balancing that with our personal lives. 

AF: What’s the story or meaning behind the title, Melonday? 

TN: I’d initially toyed around with releasing this under a different name, and Melonday was going to be the name of our band. But starting a band from scratch is a super difficult thing to do these days, and all the advice I got from people at labels and other musicians encouraged me to release it under my own name. I was thinking specifically of the Japanese custom of gifting melons, which are sold at gift shops in these really fancy boxes for like $200 or more. The idea of taking an ordinary, organic object like a melon and dressing it up differently and thus changing its perceived value made me laugh, and I thought it was kind of fitting for a pop record. I also just really liked how the word looks and sounds kind of like “melody” or “Monday” – it’s simple and evocative.

AF: I know you’re going through a personal hardship right now, and like much of your music, I sense that this album was vital to finally coming to terms with it. Would you say that’s true? Does playing and writing music typically help you process the hard stuff?

TN: I often say the songwriter is the last one to understand what a song is really about. The interesting challenge I found with these upbeat, highly rhythmic songs is that there are a lot of syllables you have to fill, so I found myself writing without analyzing the words. And doing that kind of freewriting led to a lot of conflicting, contradictory emotions that I’d normally have edited or smoothed out. And this process ended up tapping into my subconscious and revealing a lot of feelings I’d suppressed in my personal life. It’s like that scene in Good Will Hunting where Matt Damon looks at a painting that Robin Williams has hanging in his office, and the therapist says “It’s paint by numbers,” and Will replies “Yeah? Is it also color by numbers?” and immediately identifies the torment in the guy’s life from his color palette. Art is such an interesting, revealing thing. It never lies.

AF: This album is so many things, but it is also unabashedly poppy and exceedingly radio-friendly. I love that aspect of the album, but I also know some artists look at “pop” as a dirty word. Was there a worry for you in going in more a pop music direction?

TN: One thing I knew going in was that I didn’t want to approach the “pop” genre cynically or from an ironic distance. If I’m going to do something I’m gonna fully embrace it and go all the way, which I think we did with this album. I did worry a bit about alienating my fans, the people who liked the quiet acoustic songs (which I still love as well). To me, this album isn’t a cash grab or a calculated ploy for a bigger audience. I did it because it was fun and exciting to me. Mostly I didn’t want to disappoint anybody or let them down. But I knew this is just where my heart was at this specific moment in time, and I couldn’t stomach the idea of creating something else just for the sake of pleasing someone else’s idea of who I am. At the end of the day, you really have no control about how your work is perceived or received anyway. My only duty as an artist is to be honest, and do what interests and inspires me, you know what I mean? And so far the reception has been super positive, which makes me very happy!

AF: Did you record this yourself? It’s so well-engineered.

TN: Yes, I did all of the initial tracking at home on Logic using their basic plugins. I used a drum machine app on my iPhone for all the beats. Yuuki transferred those files onto ProTools and then we overdubbed a bunch of parts at his house. Sometimes he would just listen to the ideas of the song and then strip it down to just the vocals, and we’d rearrange and replace all of my instruments, chop up the beats and form a whole new backing track. “Free to Go,” for instance, originally had more of a Hall and Oates sort of bounce, and Yuuki broke it down into this slower half-time groove, making it more of a hip hop beat. It was a super fun, easy process of collaboration. 

AF: What has it been like to release a new album during the pandemic? Have you been required to get more creative in how you promote it? I see you doing lots of small, FB live performances and you’ve got a virtual release show with Night Tapes coming. Tell me about those, too?

TN: Obviously it wasn’t my dream to release a dance album in the middle of a global pandemic, but in a way it has been a sort of blessing. I’m glad I’ve had something I could share with people that could help raise their spirits. I had an “album release show” at my house a couple weeks ago when the album came out and it was really cool to see so many people watching at the same time and chatting with each other. It really did feel like a communal event. I think it’s super important to stay physically active while we’re sheltered at home, so I’m hoping this music can be a soundtrack for people’s home dance parties. I’ll be playing a few other livestream events in the coming weeks, which people can follow on my Facebook and Instagram. The 4/30 show with Night Tapes was the original album release show at the Sunset that we had planned. It has been postponed indefinitely.

AF: The reception to this new album has been really great so far—#1 on KEXP, etc. How does that feel? Validating? Confusing? 

TN: A lot of the songs on the album are about finding true human connections in the modern world, and I think the current state has put a new context to that message, and I’m glad to see it seems to be resonating with so many people. KEXP and The End and other local stations and publications and all my friends and family have all been super supportive. I’ve been blown away by the love, and I am super grateful to them. It feels amazing and also not quite real because I haven’t been able to perform these songs live in front of people. I can’t wait until we can do that again. 

AF: What are some goals for yourself in the next year or so?

TN: My immediate goal is to stay healthy as I can and make sure my parents and family are healthy as well. That’s the only thing that matters to me at this point. Obviously it’s going to take a while for everyone to recover from this, and I want to do whatever I can help out in my community. Other than that, I’m just going to keep making music and going wherever my heart takes me. I can’t wait to see what happens next.

Follow Tomo Nakayama on Facebook for ongoing updates.

The Gods Themselves Return with “Saved” Video; New LP due in May

Seattle-based dance-punk band The Gods Themselves are known for their ’80s-inspired sound and retro fashion, and the video that accompanies “Saved,” the first single from their upcoming fourth studio LP New Excuse (out May 1st), goes heavy on both.

In the video, Astra Elane (vocals, guitar) and Dustin Patterson (vocals, baritone), both dressed in bright colors, look whimsically out windows as they belt emotive lyrics like “I can’t stand to be myself / can you make me someone else?” and “Your eyes are open and I’m out of my head” with exaggerated gestures and dance moves. “I won’t save your life again,” Elane sings in the chorus, to which Patterson responds, “This will be the last time.”

The band — which counts The Talking Heads, Blondie, New Order, and LCD Soundsystem among its influences — has been around since 2014, after Elane’s previous project Atomic Bride came to an end. She originally worked with two other members and recruited Patterson based on a video of him coming in third at Seattle’s Amateur Elvis Competition (he was “intimidated” by her at first, she says, but she talked him into it). They’re also now working with bassist Andrew Imanka.

We talked to them about their past, present, and future projects, as well as the time their song “Tech Boys” got them onto a Parts Unknown episode about Seattle’s tech takeover.

AF: What is the song “Saved” about?

DP: “Saved” was originally called “Disembodied Voices,” but our producer Stephen Hague disliked the title so much he encouraged a rewrite! The song’s about a desperate relationship of shifting power dynamics. Many of our songs begin one way and, through collaboration, become something totally different, like a Pokémon evolving.

AE: Dustin had a great idea for this track about hearing a song on the radio. When Stephen suggested we change the name, we started re-working the lyrics a bit. Fun fact: the chorus lyrics were initially supposed to be just a placeholder, but they ended up sticking and inspiring the title of the song!

AF: What was the inspiration behind the video?

AE: Locations were a big inspiration for the vision of the video. We found these two great spots on Peerspace and kind of built the storyline around them. We knew we wanted the imagery to match the sound, so locations had to be stark and colorful. We also wanted some sexy dance moves, so I hit up my choreographer friend Kat Murphy, who directed all the dancing for our “Tech Boys” video. Kat flew up from LA and brought in two other incredible dancers, Shay Simone and Charlotte Smith. Our director Domenic Barbero, who had been the DP for our “Cool” video a few years prior, captured all the magic. We love Dom’s eye and knew he’d make us look amazing.

DP: The original concept was to show the two of us apart, and then we come together at the end. The song is a bit like that – we sing back and forth, separate until the big coda. We knew we had to shoot it quick, with only a couple locations, so we found the most interesting locations and built the idea around that. One location was a funky Korean karaoke place in Pike Place Market. To contrast it, we found an old White House that is often rented out for wedding photos.

AF: I saw you were on Anthony Bourdain’s show — what was that like?

AE: It was surreal. I still remember the day we got the e-mail from the production company. I had to keep reading it – I thought it was a scam at first. The producers and crew are a fantastic group of people. They flew out from NY several times to meet with us and to shoot our Capital Hill Block Party performance. Later in the summer, we met with them again when we shot the segment with Tony at Pacific Inn Pub. We were super nervous, as we had months to anticipate this life-changing fish and chips meal, but when he actually sat down and started rapping with us, all inhibitions immediately melted away. He was completely down to earth and just easy and fun to talk to. He was indeed hungover and was “very much looking forward to hitting up the weed store and smoking a joint in his hotel room” after our big lunch. Crew did a spectacular job editing down a near two-hour meal to thirty seconds. In the end, we were sad to say farewell to those folks.

 

DP: He was very rumpled from the night before. I think he had been out with Mark Lanagan from Screaming Trees. He was such a pro, though, from the moment we started shooting: calm, curious, very generous with his time. His team warned us not to bring up punk rock because he could get going pretty far down that rabbit hole. Of course, we asked him anyway. He was very candid about his New York days. He also recommended several horror movies, including one with his girlfriend Asia Argento called Stendhal Syndrome which he praised as “indefensible.” There was a sweetness to him that was so charming. It was a shock when he died and a heartbreaker, too. He’s someone you feel you know right away. It was a big break for us. I think about him often, wishing he had just held on.

AF: What inspired the song “Tech Boys” that led to that encounter?

DP: I was a contract designer at Amazon during the inaugural Prime Day. The experience was so uniformly negative, I actually left designing for a while to walk dogs around Seattle. I was left with this lingering resentment about how that company treats its people. My anger would flare up all the time in practice. The song was a channel for that anger. It’s pretty heavy-handed. I don’t resent all tech boys (or girls). It’s more about an unexamined corporate culture that devalues and dehumanizes its employees and gentrifies entire cities. But that isn’t as catchy. It’s funny because some tech people really hate that song, but some find it really funny and love it.

AE: I remember vividly how grumpy Dustin would be coming to practice after working that shit gig at Amazon. Around the same time, we were seeing many artists and musicians getting pushed out of their homes in Seattle to make way for new high rises to house the ambitious tech bros. It was disheartening. Ironically, we both work for different tech companies now, which treat their employees better than Amazon, and the fact remains that there are assholes everywhere, just as there are benevolent people everywhere – be it tech worker or artist.

AF: What inspires your distinct fashion style?

AE: Mainly the retro vibe comes from the music we are influenced by but we dig style and swag and try to deliver that in our music and appearance.

DP: Astra and I both love to dress up. The stage is a great excuse to do that. I have a closet full of cheap suits: pink, white, patterned. Crazy shoes. One of the best parts of being in a band is looking the part.

AF: What’s behind the name of your band?

DP: Our name is from a book called Catch 22.

AE: Lies! It is in fact from an Isaac Asimov novel The Gods Themselves. In the story, there is an alternate universe where the alien beings function in a triad. To reproduce, two males and a female are required. The name was fitting for us when we started as a trio…with two dudes and a chick. It’s a mouthful of a name. Many folks refer to us as TGT now.

AF: What are you working on right now?

DP: We’ve got a few more videos on the way, including one giallo-inspired video in which we are stalked and murdered by a masked killer. So all the haters can really enjoy that one.

The Gods Themselves release New Excuse on May 1. Follow the band on Facebook for ongoing updates.

PLAYING SEATTLE: The Spider Ferns Talk Grief and Creativity

The Spider Ferns, the Seattle-based band of couple Kelly and Alton Fleek, never felt more alone and isolated than during the latter half of last year, when they cared for Kelly’s terminally-ill mother until her passing in late 2019. During 2019, the Fleeks’ entire lives were put on hold, their priorities shifted, and the tarot deck was shuffled. In the little downtime they could find, The Spider Ferns wrote their newest single “Who Stands Alone,” which, with its intense vocal crescendos, plodding synth base, gritty electric guitar and lightning synth, is like an unpredictable cosmic event.

“Who Stands Alone” would’ve been a good song without the coronavirus pandemic—but little did they know that just a few months later, the entire country—and world—would meet them in the same liminal space that informed its theme. There’s even reference to the houses we’re all trapped in right now—“There is noise in my house/Hear the thunder,” Kelly sings. “You must get out/You must go farther/And, who will suffer most?/Who stands alone?”

In this way, “Who Stands Alone” has heightened resonance. The emotional journey so many of us are collectively on right now to some degree parallels the tumultuous mental space that Kelly and Alton just walked through. For that reason, “Who Stands Alone” is the sort of song that answers a timely need, that fills a void. With its slow mount to a triumphant chorus, The Spider Ferns gently guide the listener through rage, mania, anxiety and grief—and towards release.

Below, Kelly tells Audiofemme more about creating through grief, assessing what is most important in life, and about The Spider Ferns’ forthcoming album, Blossom.

AF: Tell me where you were emotionally when you wrote “Who Stands Alone.” 

KF: “Who Stands Alone” was written in 2019 when my mother fell into a deep health crisis —multiple terminal diagnoses being heaped on, one after the other over a series of months. The stresses compounded with us rushing to reconfigure our lives so I could step in and help my mom with everything from doctors appointments to washing her hair. I felt so isolated, emotionally chaotic and alone. I became really angry at my extended family for a time because though I was 100% dedicated to making my mom’s final months and days comfortable and peaceful, it was tearing me apart to be head nurse and more. Suddenly, it was all in my face —she was dying and no matter who helped me or supported me, and this was going to be a painful, lonely journey.

“Who Stands Alone” is about love and acceptance of those we hold dear during our most vulnerable moments. Under times of incredible odds and external stress, we may fall apart, or maybe we take on the role of cooking food for someone in need, or we become the person isolating, or the one who manages chaos well. We never know what hat we’ll end up wearing. Crisis is a journey of self-discovery as much as it is navigating the actual crisis. We each experience trauma individually. “Who Stands Alone” is about loving and accepting one another through it all while still honoring our own needs. I’m seeing this expansion of love and acceptance around me everywhere right now.

AF: This song happens to work well, conceptually, for the pandemic going through right now — was that coincidence?

KF: Completely coincidental. The timeliness of this release is really profound for both of us right now, however. Alton and I lived with my mom for her final months, we were isolated from our friends and family 95% of the time—stopped playing shows, stopped recording our album, stopped working. Our regular life just stopped. That’s exactly what we are all experiencing together in this moment of pandemic crisis. My mom’s home was full of hand sanitizer, face masks for folks who stopped by who might have the sniffles, vetting people who’d like to visit via phone as to whether they’ve been sick lately or had had their flu shots, my nightly wipe down of door knobs, countertops, and more with Clorox wipes—all this mirrors the invisible stresses of this time in society.

During our isolation from the world, we had had to get really creative without our standard social, musical and artistic outlets. Alton tried to work on new music via laptop and headphones, but it was really hard to get into that creative zone under so much stress. I drew cancer cells like 1960s inspired dancing abstractions for months, just to keep my creative mind flowing, but nothing felt real for the longest time. We’re good at being hermits, so we’re certainly never bored, but we both find these external stressors make accessing creativity difficult for us both. I feel that’s a common theme I’m hearing right now in the creative communities in general, and I’ve come to terms with the fact that it’s okay to not be creating some magnum opus right now. I’m sure we’ll adjust at some point and find our flow.  We’re focused largely on mixing our album at the moment, which is keeping us moving forward.

AF: What has this recent time in your life taught you about creating through grief and with grief? I’m talking both losing your mom and this pandemic we’re living through.

KF: I personally have had to be far more patient with myself than ever before. Alton is having similar struggles. We’re both highly productive people, but this level of stress is really incredible and just keeps tumbling out of the universe unchecked. I am forever changed by losing my mom. I feel that I’ll be processing that for the rest of my life really. I don’t really know how to talk about it all yet to be honest. I’m sure these past months will infuse themselves into future tracks in myriad ways. For Alton, the process of dealing with all of this has been about accepting loss of control. That’s a perfect way to put it actually. We have no real control over when anyone dies, or whether some new virus will pop up and wreak havoc. Ultimately, we’ve had to turn inward and deeply assess what is most important to us in life. I take a lot of photos right now and field recordings, I jot down thoughts like little poems on paper or in my phone as ideas trickle in. I don’t have that rush to hop into our practice space and create something immediately like I’ve had in the past. I feel more contemplative in general and more relaxed in many ways. I’ve learned to step back more and to relieve my mind of that pressure that I should be using this time ‘wisely’—I think right now it’s wise to breathe, to contemplate, to take my time.

AF: This song is one single off a forthcoming album, right? Tell me a little bit about that album and what drives it thematically?

KF: “Who Stands Alone” is the first single off of our forthcoming album Blossom due out later this year. The album has a phoenix rising from the ashes vibe —both of us rising above the struggles of the past few years, both personal and societal, finding a deeper groove together musically, channeling a lot of sorrow into dance music lyrically and sonically as well. Blossom reflects the heaviness of our current political climate and the heartbreak we’ve shared. It’s also the solution—we’re transcending all of this shit we’ve endured and taking you on the journey with us. In typical Spider Fern form, we’ve made heartbreak you can dance to.

AF: Assuming you won’t be able to tour with the album (welp), have you lined up any virtual performances or tour dates?

KF: We’ll create some living room shows soon that we’ll announce on our socials. Stay tuned there. We can hardly wait to tour again. We’re hoping for fall or winter. We had plans to tour Europe again this fall…. who knows what the future holds for now. We’re hoping to use this downtime to get some new music videos in the works as well.

Follow The Spider Ferns on Facebook for ongoing updates.

PLAYING SEATTLE: Sundae + Mr. Goessl Let Originality Shine on Fun & Fancy

Kaija Rae Photography

Eight years ago, Kate Voss tapped Jason Goessl on the shoulder at a party after recognizing him from a performance he had a few weeks prior. “I asked if he’d like to play music with me sometime. He gave me a big smile and said ‘yes,’” remembers Voss.

That ‘yes’ turned into more than an occasional jam session. Quickly, Voss and Goessl realized that they were both “borderline obsessed” with the jazz music of the 1930s, and they began playing around Seattle as Sundae + Mr. Goessl in 2013. Then, they fell in love. Voss and Goessl married in 2015 and after losing their Seattle apartment in late 2017, have been living, touring, and rehearsing full-time from their RV, and as Voss jokes, “are still married!”

“It’s definitely a very unique and fun life… never a dull moment,” says Voss. “We started video documenting some of our tours and adventures because there really isn’t a ‘typical’ day in this work. We’ve been averaging 250 shows a year since 2015 all over the country, so our days vary a lot. Traveling, performing, practicing, booking, admin work, taxes, recording, marketing, and doing our best to stay healthy. We’ve been living in ‘Harvey’ the RV since August of 2018 and enjoy the adventure with our Chihuahua Jackie Osassis.”

Sundae + Mr. Goessl have made six albums in six years, and on March 19th they’ll officially debut their latest, Fun & Fancy at their official release party at The Triple Door. Half of its thirteen tracks represent fun to them while the others represent feeling fancy, with inspiration coming from some unlikely sources – including one of Voss’s beloved childhood VHS tapes.

“The concept actually came to us through one of the cover songs we put on the record called ‘Lazy Countryside.’ It’s from a Disney cartoon released in 1947 called Bongo, about a circus bear who was mistreated and escaped to be a ‘real bear’ and live in the forest but didn’t have much ‘real bear’ experience. I watched it repeatedly with my siblings… probably over 100 times,” she says. “The [cartoon] was a double feature called Fun and Fancy-Free and it got me thinking about our music and how we often put a light-hearted stamp on our sometimes-complex arrangements and thought Fun & Fancy perfectly described who we were as musicians and as people.”

Like previous releases, Fun & Fancy showcases the duo at their best: Voss’s playful vocals backed up by Goessl’s versatile guitar accompaniment, with some choice, cherry-on-top improvisational flourishes. Fun & Fancy also showcases a few musical firsts for the couple — it’s the first full-length album they’ve recorded away from the big city bustle in Goessl’s quieter home state of Wisconsin, and it features quite a few of their newly-penned originals.

“We recorded this record at Pine Hollow with Evan Middlesworth outside of Eau Claire. We played a few concerts at Pine Hollow over the years and always loved the vibe. It’s a spacious studio in the country that has an off the grid vibe and an oversized golden retriever named Dug,” says Goessl. “I wanted to be away from a big city and not feel any influence when recording this album. I grew up in Wisconsin and went to college in Eau Claire, so the recording process in this particular area was a wonderfully personal, full circle connection for me.”

After several songwriting successes over the years, including the nomination of the title track on their 2016 album, “Makes My Heart Sway,” for an Independent Music Award in 2017, both Voss and Goessl also wanted Fun & Fancy to display as many of their originals as possible. It’s these songs that really shine, with no offense to other legendary songwriters featured, like Gershwin and Edith Piaf.

“We are lucky in that we both write music and lyrics. We had very specific intentions on our spring tour last year to write as much as possible and we ended up giving ourselves a writing retreat in Yellow Springs, Ohio,” says Voss.

Of the fresh songs, “Darlene,” “Second in Line,” “Might as Well (Cuz Love is Hell)“ and “I Love My Baby Better,” particularly stand out both as fun, relatable ditties with that earworm quality and as canvases for both musician’s deep knowledge of vintage country, mid-century Bossa Nova, early swing and The Great American Songbook.

“We are hoping to break into a broader scene with more original music while still keeping our vintage style and verve with Fun & Fancy. Sometimes we feel not jazzy enough for the jazz scene and too jazzy for the folk scene, but one thing we do know is that people tend to have a lot of fun at our shows (ourselves included) and often the feedback we get is ‘I don’t even like jazz, but I love you guys.’ That’s just the attitude we’re seeking when we are on the road,” says Voss.

After the March 19th release show in Seattle, the couple has plans to head out on the road with Fun & Fancy – they have 60 dates planned after April 1st. Despite their transient touring lifestyle, they still consider Seattle their home base.

“We both moved to Seattle in 2001… Even with 16+ months on the road the past two years and a ‘Home is where you park it’ mentality, we always come back to Seattle. My family is here and no matter where we might land in the future, we will always be coming back to the PNW,” promises Voss.

For more information on Sundae + Mr. Goessl, visit their website.